Currere Sex
by The Mudblooded Slytherin
Summary: After helping the Legion to victory, a female Courier finds that Caesar's limited respect doesn't count for much in a male-dominated society. But she's not the only one unhappy with the status quo, and Vulpes Inculta has a secret.
1. Crossing the Rubicon

The wind off the Colorado whipped through her hair as Courier Six stood tall near the edge of Hoover Dam. Victory and the cool breeze tempered the heat of the battle, a heat that only now started to abate. She had won. She checked herself; the Legion had won. She had assisted. In, if she permitted herself the indulgent thought, indispensable ways. She glanced to her right at the proud figures next to her. Aurelius of Phoenix, Vulpes Inculta, and the Legate Lanius, who was standing behind Caesar himself. On the far side of Caesar was Lucius, the leader of Praetorians and her future boss, if all went well.

"Ave, legionaries!" Caesar's voice echoed off the ravine walls, met with a deafening cheer. "Mars has seen fit to bathe us in the blood of our enemies. The river runs red today!"

Six remained stoic, as did the others lined up next to her. They were separate, picked out for special honors, and they would receive them with dignity.

"Ave, Lanius." Caesar came to stand in front of the Legate. "You have shown great bravery today, as you do all days, of course. For your success in taking Hoover Dam I will have a new helmet forged for you, steel plated with gold, so all that may come against you will see the shine in the eyes of Mars for miles."

Caesar stepped to the next man.

"And Vulpes. Able leader of my Frumentarii. Without your, shall we say, particular acumen, we would have been fighting in the dark. As it is you gathered exceptional amounts of intelligence and at the same time struck the fear of the Gods into every profligate to hear the name Legion. Among certain other tasks, of course." Vulpes smirked slightly. "You will have first pick of the slaves. I know how you like those NCR Rangers."

"It is rewarding to watch them break, my Lord."

"Indeed. Aurelius, one of my finest Centurions. You performed admirably running the forward camp at Cottonwood. Some forget that a war is not won by strength of the sword alone, but by strategy and coordination and support. That's not to say you aren't a warrior. How many of those dogs' tags did you collect today?"

"Sixty-seven, Lord Caesar."

"I dare anyone with a higher number come forward!" Caesar laughed. Lanius shifted on his feet. If he had a higher number, Six didn't doubt that the Legate would have spoken up, but as he remained silent it seemed he was just upset that Aurelius had beat him. "For your faithful service I give you first pick of the weapons."

"Thank you, Lord Caesar."

Finally, her leader stepped in front of her. "Now, many of you have seen this little girl running around the camp. You heeded my warning about mistaking her for a profligate! Good men. She has performed many tasks for us, many that have given us an advantage this day. And for that I thank her. In remembrance of all she did for the Legion I present her with the first Sesterius." He took a bronze coin from his pocket and tossed it to her. She caught it, startled. "In her honor, it will be a value of six Sesterii to one Denarius. This coin will first be distributed, one per person, throughout the wasteland as a symbol of the riches we will gain from this new territory. It will be a new value in our currency as this land will be a boon to our Legion. Legion in aeternum! Legion forever!"

Whatever response Six might have made would have been lost in the roar of victory.

* * *

The legionaries were celebrating long into the night. There was a centurium standing guard at the Dam, but Six, and everyone else, knew there would be no offensive from the NCR. They had thrown everything they had into this battle and had lost over two thirds of all their men. They would be retreating far west of Vegas and would be a long time coming back to the Mojave, if ever.

The courier, however, had retired to a makeshift bunk in the quietest room she could find. She turned the coin over in her hands. She hadn't been sure at first, but there was a mirror in one of the bathrooms that was clean enough to see her reflection in. It was her. It said Currere Sex. She turned it over. Caesar, and the words Fortitudo Aeternum. An incredible honor, she knew. How did he even have it so quickly? He must have had it made before the battle. If she had fallen, would he have released anyway, it in her memory? She felt full to bursting. Well, mostly. She would have equally liked a more traditional gift. First choice weapon was good. First slave was a high honor. She didn't particularly want one, but it was the thought that counted. Or perhaps... an honorary induction into the Praetorians, she thought, then chided herself. That wasn't how the Praetorians worked. She knew what she had to do to receive that honor. She felt entirely ungrateful. The others probably wished they had received something like this. Their face on money, who wouldn't love that?

And she only needed five more of them to equal one Denarius. It was worth less than a bottle cap. She could go back to the press in the Sarsaparilla Headquarters, hammer her face flat, and it would be worth more. Well. Not for long. Very soon, no one would use bottlecaps in the Mojave anymore.

She couldn't sleep. The Denacii were being uncharacteristically lenient after the victory, but even if the legionaries weren't making so much noise she doubted rest would find her. She made her way to the top of the Dam, where at least it was quiet. The risk of attack was infinitesimal, but out in the open the Legion were still disciplined. She saw shadows marking sentries, but they were still. The sky was lightening; it would be dawn soon. She tried to capture the peace she felt after the battle.

A voice startled her. "Courier. You look lost."

She turned. Vulpes Inculta. The first Legion member she had ever met. How fitting he would be here. She looked back across the water. "You can just call me Six. I'm not a courier anymore."

"So you aren't. What are you, I wonder?" Silence stretched between them. "I suppose you don't even know."

Six bristled. "Don't you have a Ranger to be getting back to?"

"She'll keep," he responded, watching her carefully. "Does it not bother you, imagining what I am going to do to her?"

She shrugged. "The fate of an NCR dog means nothing to me." He continued staring at her. Her skin prickled. "I don't care to imagine it, though."

Vulpes smiled. "I have been waiting for this moment for a long time."

"The moment where you get to go rape your Ranger?"

He walked to the edge and leaned on the low wall next to her. "The moment when you realize you have more in common with my Ranger than you do with any man wearing red."

She wasn't looking at him, but she still turned her head away. She didn't want him to see her cheeks redden. A sign of anger, taken by men as a sign of embarrassment.

"How dare you. I have been honored today, as you have, by Caesar himself. And yet you question my allegiance."

"How could I not?"

"After all I have done-"

"All you have done makes no sense," he interrupted. "This is the only thing that does. That is why I knew it would come."

She turned to him now. "I fight for the Legion. I do as my Lord -"

"Exactly. You fight for the Legion." He looked her up and down slowly.

"And?"

"Don't play the stupid profligate with me," he said coldly. She opened her mouth angrily, but he cut her off. "I remember Nipton. I remember a girl whose eyes went wide seeing crucified bodies. That was the first time you surprised me. Young girl, scared expression. Yet the words you said to me were strong. Like a recruit. Not accustomed to the sight, but accepting of the truth. Of course, you did not know the whole truth then, did you?"

"And what is that, then?"

"Oh, you know it now. In Nipton you saw something larger than yourself. You saw strength. You saw justice, pure and true. You saw the corruption of the wasteland, and the fact that it can be stopped. But soon after, I imagine, you realized what you never saw."

"I'm tiring of this circular conversation, Vulpes."

"You never saw a woman in Legion armor."

"I guess I'm the first," she said. His eyes narrowed. "Figuratively," she added, very aware of the mercenary outfit she was wearing. They had never given her her own armor. There had been a few sets in the safe house, but they hadn't fit.

He was right, though. Of course he was right. The first time, she hadn't thought anything of it. Well, you didn't judge an army based on one small group of soldiers. But it didn't take long for her to learn what the Legion's stance was. Still, she had gone to Caesar when summoned. Her curiosity and her memory of Vulpes at Nipton were too much to deny. And he hadn't cared that she was a woman. It was almost enough to make her forget the rest of them.

"I heard some things, obviously. But clearly it isn't that bad if Caesar had you deliver the Mark to me," she said.

"Caesar needed someone who could get into the Lucky 38-"

She stepped closer to him, invading his space. An obvious play for dominance, but she didn't care. "The Lord Caesar never said a single word to me about being a woman. He assigned me tasks and expected me to carry them out. And I did. Very well. And he honored me today. Put my face on money so everyone could see it. He clearly has no problem with me."

"With you? No. He recognizes all you have done. You had... advantages, as a Dissolute-"

"Don't call me that," she snapped.

Vulpes cocked his head to the side. "But that's what you are. There are no women Legionaries."

She stepped back and looked away. "You need women. You can't have a society of just men."

"Obviously. We have many slaves. Some of us have wives back in Flagstaff. Understand, of course, that the term 'wife' does not mean 'equal'. Then are women that live what you would consider normal lives under Legion rule. But they are not Legion themselves. They and their ilk are called the Dissolute. Civilized towns that have been incorporated by the Legion do not get enslaved." Vulpes smiled wide, showing his teeth. "We're not monsters."

"Well. I'm not a slave. I'm not a wife. And I'm not Dissolute. So don't call me that."

"Why do you want so desperately to be part of something that despises you? Do you want to be special? The only female legionary? A living legend?"

Six didn't respond right away, and the two faded into silence. They looked toward the East as the dawn broke.

"Caesar's opinion is all that matters. And honestly," she said quietly, with a small smile, "I think once you're on the money, you are a bit of a legend. Enjoy your Ranger, Vulpes."

She turned and went back down into the Dam. She had spent enough time wandering up top that she didn't remember the way to the room she had been in previously. Not that it mattered. She had only wanted to escape Vulpes and his probing conversation. Any empty room with a mat would do.

Before she could find one, however, she ran into a group of legionaries in the hallway. Three recruits, by the look of them. And drunk, by the smell.

"Hey, man, it's that chick!" Clearly new recruits. Dirty tribals, not yet assimilated to Legion culture. They had probably found alcohol left from the NCR troops and instead of turning it in or dumping it out like a true Legionary, they kept it for themselves.

"My name is Six," she said sternly. "And who is your Denacus?"

"Your name is sex? I'll say," said another.

Six's eyes narrowed. "You are clearly drunk. And if you don't want to end up on a cross tomorrow I suggest you tell me who your Denacus is."

"Come on, now, baby, we won! Hows about we end the night with another bang?"

She shot her palm up into the first man's nose, hearing a crunch. The blood indicated she had broken his nose, but she felt as though she had broken her wrist as well. She was never that good at unarmed fighting, and she had left her machete in the other room.

The other two laughed and moved forward as the first stumbled back. She walked backwards slowly with her hands up in front of her, the right one throbbing painfully.

"Stupid bitch. Grab her!"

Her back came against a wall and she realized she'd missed the turn for the stairs. She was in a corner.

The two uninjured recruits came forward. She managed to get a few solid hits in, ignoring the pain and probable damage she was doing to her hand, but they caught her at the wrists. She kicked out and connected with a shin, but their hold on her barely weakened. The first recruit, blood streaming down his face, approached and tried to catch her legs. She got another kick in, right on his injured nose. He howled, but leapt forward and pinned her legs to the ground. "You'll pay for that," he said.

He sat, straddling her legs. She tried to buck him off, but he was too heavy and with the other two holding her arms she had no leverage. They pushed her down on the ground and began kicking her in the stomach, the ribs, the kidney, the head. She instinctively tried to curl up into a ball. At least if they were beating the shit out of her they weren't doing anything else. Yet.

After what was an interminable amount of time, a shot rang out in the hallway. Then another. Two bodies thumped down next to her.

"You saw this person being honored by Caesar this morning, so you thought good sport for the evening would be beating her?"

If Six were more conscious she would probably have been upset that she just got rescued like a damned damsel by Vulpes Inculta.

* * *

When she woke up, she looked around blearily. Everything hurt. After her vision had cleared a bit, Six recognized that she was in a medical tent. Sheets separating beds. A table with a doctor's bag and assorted medical supplies. Man in a lab coat. And then her eyes settled on a face. Not a particularly happy one, either.

"Courier."

"Nng. Arcade."


	2. Inculta

When she woke up, she looked around blearily. Everything hurt. After her vision had cleared a bit, Six recognized that she was in a medical tent. Sheets separating beds. A table with a doctor's bag and assorted medical supplies. Man in a lab coat. And then her eyes settled on a face. Not a particularly happy one, either.

"Courier."

"Nng. Arcade."

"Looks like you got the shit kicked out of you."

"Seems like."

"That's pretty good."

"`Why are you still alive?" she groaned.

Arcade scoffed. "That's what I get. Typical. No 'thank you, Arcade, for fixing me up again,' no 'sorry, Arcade, for lying to you and selling you into slavery to become a plaything in hands of your worst nightmare.'"

"Can you not snark at me so early in the morning?"

"It's either this or a lethal dose of Med-X."

"That sounds infinitely preferable."

"You're telling me. But unfortunately your injuries aren't serious enough that death would be a realistic outcome, and if I kill Caesar's little protégé I don't think he'd be too happy with me. Or that Vulpes creep."

"Why would he be mad at Vulpes?"

Arcade gave her a look of disgust. "I can't believe I ever thought you were even the tiniest bit intelligent."

"Sorry. I'm not at my best when concussed."

"That's not what I meant."

"I know."

"I hate you."

"I know."

Six wanted to leave as soon as possible, but Arcade made it very clear that she was supposed to stay, "And I'll be damned if I'm going to get in trouble because you couldn't follow orders." Not that she needed the warning. If Caesar wanted her to stay here, she would. The waiting was hard, though. Especially since she couldn't ask Arcade for any Med-X. He'd already made it quite clear that as the Legion didn't generally use chems she was shit out of luck if she though he was going to waste one drop on her traitorous ass, and didn't it suck and wasn't it better back when they were friends.

It did indeed suck. She wasn't used to healing without them, and it was more painful than she would have expected.

"Can you at least tell me what the damage is so I won't feel so bad about feeling so bad?"

"I'm not going to tell you shit."

"C'mon, Arcade. I thought you were a doctor first."

"And I thought you were a decent human being. Honestly. When they brought you in here I can't say I was shocked. Caesar has been using me as his personal doctor, giving my services to certain people he deems important and injured enough. I knew you'd turn up eventually. You get yourself injured so often I thought it would be sooner. But I am astounded that you sold me into slavery, then think that you can talk to me like we're still traveling together."

She sat up and looked at him for the first time. A small feeling of guilt twinged inside her. She had felt the same twinge when she had first brought him here. But then, as now, she had only one response to it. "He was going to die, Arcade."

Arcade exploded out of his chair. "And? And so fucking what? Save the me and Mojave a whole lot of fucking trouble!"

"Would you rather have had Lanius in charge?"

That brought him up short. He looked at her suspiciously. "You did not bring me here and sell me out so I could save the lesser of two evils."

"So you've met him."

"Of course I've met him," he said, quietly. He moved the chair closer to her bed and sat back down. He was whispering now. "He's a monster. They literally call him the Monster of the East. He's brought his slave girls here sometimes. I wasn't-" He looked away. "I wasn't able to save one of them."

Six said nothing.

He looked back at her, disgust evident again. "And this is what you signed up for. These are the people you led to success. I just don't get it."

"I have no love for Lanius, Arcade. And he has no love for the Legion. I think it's safe to say the Mojave is better off with Caesar over him."

"The Mojave is better off without either of them, Six, and you know it." He sighed. "Or I thought you did." He removed his glasses and tried to clean them with his dirty shirt. "So don't tell me you brought me here to save New Vegas from the Monster of the East. If you had thought the Legion needed stopping you would have chosen another side."

"That's true. I didn't do it to stop Lanius. I just hoped that argument would help you feel better about it. I already told you why I did it."

"Because Caesar was going to die." Arcade sighed again and replaced his glasses. "Why did you care?"

"He-" She stopped. "I just-" She bit the inside of her cheek. "If he wasn't the leader of the Legion, I still would have brought you to him."

Arcade looked confused. "So. You care about him. As, like, a person? Because you know that's crazy, right? You know _he's_ crazy, right?"

"He isn't crazy. He's passionate and brave and interesting and intelligent-"

"He's completely fucking twisted! And you must be, too, you sound like you're in love with the guy!"

Six said nothing. Arcade sat back, stunned. "You're in love with the guy? That's ridiculous. The leader of the raping slaver culture. The King Misogynist, the -"

"When he called me here the first time, asked for an audience. I came. Because I'm curious. Because I had seen some things I agree with. Heard some things about how life is in Arizona. And because I had heard some things I didn't agree with. But when I got here, Arcade, he wasn't anything like that." Arcade looked beyond skeptical. "Oh, sure, he's hard. He's very hard. And unforgiving. But he doesn't hate women. He never thought I was less than capable. He always let me prove my abilities. And that's what the wasteland is, Arcade. It's hard. It's unforgiving. And it's a chance to prove that you're strong enough."

"Exactly. The wasteland is shitty enough. Why make it shittier?"

Six didn't answer that question. Instead, she said, "There's a lot of overlap between the Legion and the Followers, have you noticed that?"

"Oh, no. No, no, no. Don't try this on me. Caesar tries this argument all the time and it's crap, Six."

"Caesar says that? To you?" Six smiled. "Well. I guess I shouldn't be surprised he saw intelligence in you."

"Don't try to butter me up, sister. I still hate you and you're both out of your damn minds. Just because the Legion mantra is to work together for the whole, the way they put it into practice is so far removed from what the Followers teach."

"It is what the Followers teach. It's just... tweaked."

"Tweaked?!"

"So that it actually has a chance for success."

"If raping and pillaging are success to you, I suppose it works well."

"Things are different in Arizona. People live in peace. I've talked to people who've been there. Lived there. It's safe. Everyone has food. Everyone has clean water."

"No one has freedom."

"They have more freedom than a lot of places in the NCR. They pay a miniscule amount of taxes-"

"It's easy not to tax when the majority of your labor comes from slaves."

"Slaves are just for the army. Once there is no need of an army, there will be no need of slaves. And the taxes would stay the same."

"I can't comprehend how Caesar could so extensively scramble your sense of morality to make you think the Legion is a better alternative to anything."

"And really, how much freedom do people here have now?" she continued. "What's freedom mean to you if you don't have enough food to feed yourself? If you can't get any water that isn't irradiated? If you don't know from one day to the next if you're going to survive or if you're going to get killed by raiders or deathclaws or starve to death? That freedom is just as much a lie as anything you could say about the Legion."

Arcade was silent for a moment. "I'll tell you the same thing I tell Caesar. While I agree with your points, the fact remains that the ends do not justify the means. If you rape a culture into being, if you build it on the backs of slaves, it is a slave culture. And that's not okay. And furthermore, I can't believe I'm arguing politics with you. Back when we were travelling together we always seemed to agree. Although I suppose you were just lying. And after I got here, well, most of my daydreams involved a bit less back-and-forth and a bit more killing you in some painful way, if I'm being honest."

"I wasn't lying."

"Hmm?"

"I wasn't lying. Back when we used to talk politics. I just... don't think your ways are feasible anymore."

Arcade sighed. "Fair enough. I wonder that myself quite often." He gave her a sharp look. "Not that I agree with the Legion. At all. Or that I don't still hate you. Because I do. But it does all seem a bit... pointless at times." He looked guilty for a moment. "To be honest. My living conditions here are actually a bit better than they were in Freeside. You know. Minus the freedom, of course."

"Of course."

They were silent for a moment. It reminded Six of the companionable silences shared under the stars by the campfire, but of course it was not. The knowledge made her uncomfortable.

"So you and Lord Caesar talk politics, huh?"

Arcade sighed. "He seems to think it great fun. At first I thought I might be able to do some good. Talk him around to more reasonable points. It's never going to work, though. He likes talking to someone who knows what he means when he references Rome and speaks in Latin. But he doesn't care what my opinion is about anything."

"If he didn't care what your opinion was I doubt he'd let you talk like that," Six responded.

"I don't talk like that to Caesar," Arcade said. "Well. Rarely. Sometimes he does get me a bit worked up."

"Yeah, me, too," she replied with a small smile.

"Ugh." Arcade was revolted. "If the thought of a worked up woman wasn't gross enough already, you've got to cast Caesar into my mental images."

"He's not a bad looking guy, you know."

"Stop now or I'll reconsider that Med-X."

Just then the tent flap was pulled back and the man himself, followed by Vulpes, entered. Six blushed. She hoped he hadn't heard her. She hoped he had.

She tried to stand. "Ave, Lord Caesar."

He waved her down. "Stay, stay. You're injured. A fractured rib, a concussion, fractured wrist, sprained ankle. You aren't going anywhere for a while." She relaxed as Caesar pulled a chair up next to Arcade. "We've got the best doctor to see to you. Though I'm sure you know that."

Arcade returned his smile with a sarcastic one of his own.

"So. No doubt it will please you to know the last member of the trio that attacked you is strung up on a cross at this very moment."

"It does, Lord Caesar. Thank you."

"No thanks necessary, Courier. It is a crime punishable by death to needlessly attack someone who is not a Profligate. Not to mention they had been drinking alcohol. But I do hope it gives you some consolation because I bet you're not going to like what I have to say next." He paused. "I am taking Lanius and most of the able-bodied legionaries to New Vegas tomorrow morning. I know you wanted to be there to see the city fall, but-"

"I can handle myself, Lord Caesar. These injuries are nothing!" She again tried to stand, but the pain in her ribs made her head dizzy.

"I admire your spirit, Courier, as I always have done. But to join us in your condition would just be an embarrassment to yourself. I say you will not fight."

She slumped down in the bed. "Sic, Caesar. I will do as you say."

"Of course you will. Now, for long term plans. You have expressed interest many times in visiting our lands. After you have healed, a caravan heading toward Flagstaff will carry you. I have a letter here for Primus Augustus, he is overseeing from the Capital while I am away. He will-"

"No!"

Caesar looked at her, surprised. At the disagreement or simply the interruption, she didn't know, or care. "Do not send me from your side, my Lord!"

The man shared a long look with Vulpes Inculta, though what passed between them she couldn't say. All Six knew was that she couldn't let him send her off to fade away in Flagstaff. For all that she talked Arizona up to Arcade, she had no interest in living there. No fighting to get her blood boiling, no Caesar to set her heart racing; it would be torture.

"You have earned your rest, Courier. Vegas will fall and we have no use for your particular brand of mercenary."

"Rest, Lord Caesar? Mercenary? Neither of these things apply to me. I am your soldier, no mercenary. I fight for you and only you. Do not send me to rot in some quiet town."

Caesar smiled. "Indeed. Vulpes didn't think you would go for that. He seems to think you want to become a Legion warrior. I told him you were too smart to expect that to happen."

"I..."

"Hmm. Apparently not. I suppose my words might have mislead you. You were very useful to our cause, but that time is over. I will say now, clearly: There cannot be female legionaries. This is a men's army."

Six was shocked, too shocked to speak.

"So, if that's all," Caesar said, standing. "I have made the arrangements with the caravan." She couldn't look at him. Vulpes was staring at her with an unreadable expression. Arcade had an expression like pity on his face. Good old Arcade. Couldn't even take pleasure in an enemy's despair, for all he talked about wanting her to die.

At that moment, she wanted to die.

"No, Lord." She managed to struggle to her feet. Caesar turned back to her. He didn't look happy at her continued refusal. "I mean. Please. I mean it. Don't send me away. I am still useful to you. I am a warrior. I am still helpful."

Caesar walked back over to her. He put a hand on her shoulder and pushed her gently back to the bed, and resumed his place in the chair.

"Spitfire little girl, aren't you? It's true, you have been very helpful. I suppose if Flagstaff is not what you want it is not a suitable reward for your service. You want to stay here, on the frontlines?"

"Yes, Lord. More than anything."

"You must understand. We have a culture to uphold. If you want to stay there must be a reason, a way I can explain it to the legionaries without them thinking I am showing favorable treatment to a woman." How about favorable treatment to a trusted warrior? she thought. "If I do that, the whole system falls down."

"Women were warriors in Sparta," Arcade said quietly.

"Not now, Arcade," Caesar snapped. "You can stay, but you'd need a master. A husband, rather. A reason for your continued presence." He must have misread the expression on her face. "I knew you wouldn't like it. But it is the way it is."

"No! I mean," she tried valiantly not to blush, "if that is what it takes, I'd be honored, My Lord."

Caesar smiled and clapped his hands. "Excellent. Well, everyone's happy. I imagine Lanius would take you in. My second in command; the most honor you can get from a match."

"...what?"

"Lord Caesar, I doubt the Legate would welcome the responsibility of a wife. He does not even welcome the responsibility of keeping his slaves alive," Vulpes interjected.

"I'm sure he'll take care with this one, Inculta. She's not some ordinary slave, after all."

"That isn't quite what I had in mind, my Lord," Six said quietly.

"Well, what, woman? You can leave as soon as you're healed, if that's what you're after! I tire of this conversation."

"But... no, I thought..." Six couldn't say it, now. He'd had the opportunity right before him, and he shucked her off on someone else. This was so far from what she wanted she didn't even know how to articulate it. She looked at Arcade, who looked stony faced and angry. She looked at Vulpes. He had known. He had tried to tell her last night that this would happen and she blew him off. She thought wildly, fix this, fix this, fix this, please. I don't know how.

"I doubt Lanius knows what care is, Lord Caesar. I will take her, if it pleases you."

"Whatever ends this conversation. I have much to do before I set off tomorrow. Ungrateful woman."

Caesar stormed from the tent. Arcade looked like he wanted to say something, probably 'I told you so,' but Vulpes was walking towards them. He didn't even glance at him as he said, "Leave us."

Then Arcade was gone. Just her and Vulpes.

Six was scared, but it felt distant, somehow. A clawing terror and a rising despair, but it felt unimportant next to the numbness of shock.

"I guess we know who you are now, Six Inculta." She said nothing. Vulpes sat in the chair Caesar had vacated. She could barely look at him. "I imagine this is not what you hoped would come from that conversation."

"Don't you have a battle to prepare for?" she said flatly.

"I am not going to the battle. I am the leader of the Frumentarii, not a field commander."

He reached out towards her and she flinched away. Vulpes smiled wanly. "That's no way to repay me for my kindness. I saved you from Lanius."

"Right. I'm sure your Ranger will be pleased that your attentions will be divided."

He pulled his hand back. "Lanius might not have made the distinction between Profligate and Dissolute," he began.

"Oh, I'm still fucking Dissolute, am I?" Six laughed, but tears began streaming down her cheeks. "Lovely."

"Stop that, it is most unattractive."

"Like I give a shit at this point."

"As is cursing. But if you would let me speak, I apologize." She looked up at him. He looked uncomfortable. "I misspoke. You are no longer Dissolute. But again. Lanius would likely not have made that distinction. He has no cares for the societal aspects of the Legion, only the freedom it gives him to satiate his blood thirst." He paused. "And the slaves, I suppose."

"And you clearly have no interest in slaves. Let me ask your Ranger what she thinks about-"

"The Ranger is dead," he said. "Or will be soon, I should say. I am a man of great talents, but I doubt I could wrangle you both at once."

"You will not be wrangling me, in any case," Six spat. "I'm not an NCR dog to be brought to heel."

"Indeed you are not. And if you would take a moment to listen to me you would understand what is really happening here."

"Whatever."

Vulpes tsked in annoyance. "You have no idea the fine line you walk. Though you should. It's not difficult to figure out."

"Enlighten me, dear husband," she spat.

"You are not an NCR dog, but you do need to be brought to heel. Caesar is in two minds about you, which is one more than the rest of the Legion. He admires your strength. I told you this last night. But the fact remains, you are a woman. He will not risk the stability of the Legion, even if it means dishonoring one he has grown to respect."

Hearing that Caesar respected her should not set butterflies in her stomach. Not after all he said. Not after handing her off to another man like a piece of meat. But it did.

"This is the closest you could have hoped for at this time. I told him you would never accept being sent away from the front lines. I guided him to think of a way for you to remain. Your strength is useful, still. In ways Caesar has yet to see."

"That sounds dangerously close to disloyalty, Inculta."

"Far from it. I am a trusted advisor. It is my duty to advise," he said lightly.

Six wiped her face on the patient gown and took a deep breath. "Advise me, then."

"First, you need to show him, show everyone that you can last in the Legion. That you can assimilate to our culture. He will never take you seriously if he views you as an outsider. After that is accomplished, you can start to show your strength again. Then it won't be your strength. It won't be the strength of the Dissolute. It will be Legion strength, which is always rewarded."

His words made sense. But so had the words of Caesar; words that promised acceptance while never stating it. She had fallen victim to Legion words before. And this time she had even less reason to trust them.

"You said last night. None of the things I did until now made sense. Because I'm a woman, fighting for the Legion. Now I see what you mean. Because this doesn't make any sense. You're making out like you're protecting me, like you want me to succeed in what I want. But why would you want that? You're Legion. I'm a woman. Why would you care at all about me?"

"Perhaps when you answer my question, I'll answer yours."

Six grimaced. "Well. Whatever your end game is, I can tell you right now. You're never going to fuck me. I'll kill you first."

Vulpes said nothing, but his eyes seemed to laugh at her. Or maybe not. It was hard to tell.


	3. Machetes and Metaphors

It had been three days since Caesar and most of the Legion left for New Vegas. They were moving slowly, getting their strength back. Six knew the Omertas and the Kings would be taking a lot of the NCR out before the Legion even arrived. It should be a simple victory. One she had dearly hoped to accompany Caesar on. As it was she could barely look towards the river and the Dam, much less return to it. She had flat-out refused when Vulpes suggested it, but the merriment in his eyes suggested it was never a serious proposition. The more time she spent with the man, the less she understood him.

He understood her rather well, it seemed. The morning after Caesar had left he liberated her from the clinic tent and the uncomfortable presence of Arcade to practice sparring. He didn't mention her injuries and neither did she.

He had no such qualms about hitting her in her bruises, though.

"You need to move faster, Courier. Your skill with a machete is passable, but what if it is knocked from your hand?"

She breathed deeply. Everything ached. She was trying not to put weight on her ankle and his constant demands infuriated her.

"Or do you need to _rest_?" he asked mockingly.

She lunged at him, left palm colliding with his chin. It wasn't the best hit, but it knocked the smile off his face.

When he finally called a stop to it Six didn't know if exhaustion or pain would collapse her first. She sat heavily on a log next to a fire pit. Vulpes sat next to her, drinking from a canteen. She didn't think she'd ever seen him sit on the ground before. It was strange.

He passed her the canteen and she drank deeply. "You have decent form, most likely from wielding the machete. Learn that although you have no tangible weapon, your fists can be deadly. You can carry over many of the forms with minor alterations to compensate for your lack of reach."

"Yeah," she panted. "I know, I get it. I just need to practice more."

"Not only practice, although you do need plenty of that. You have to understand the style. Understand why certain things will work and why others will not. It's one half strength, one half training, and one half mind games."

"That's three halves, Vulpes."

"And to overcome your problems, Courier, you need to be twice a man."

She sighed.

"It is good to practice with injuries."

"Is it." Would he never shut up?

"Yes. You refused to hit with your right hand. You were not willing to injure it further. That is good for sparring. You are learning how to use your left hand. You had to shift your stances to make up for your ankle. Makes it easier when you find yourself fighting on rough terrain. And the torso, well. You're learning how to take pain and keep fighting."

"You have some metaphorical message for everything, don't you?" She took another drink and handed the canteen back to him. "I know how to take pain," she added.

"No, you do not. You know how to take Med-X. You know how to take Stimpaks."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm a weak profligate, I get it."

He wiped some blood from her face with his thumb, then looked at it appraisingly. For a strange moment, she thought he was going to lick it. He simply ran it along his armor, the color blending into the dark red almost imperceptibly. "Not for long."

They stayed at the Fort for a month, training most every day. According to custom, Six moved into Vulpes' tents, but she brought her own bedroll. She waited to shoot down a proposition that never came. She was still unsure of Vulpes and his motives, but as days turned to weeks new movements turned to habits. She learned to fight with her left hand. She learned to do laundry, both her own and Vulpes' red garments. She learned to hold her balance on a boulder as a machete sliced close to her throat. She learned the strange cadences that most of the slaves spoke with. She learned what pain felt like.

She entered the clinical tent alone, and was happy to see Arcade was as well. She was quite sure he still hated her, but when they were alone they fell into rhythms similar to what they had during their travels together. Before she sold him out. Sometimes his acerbic wit cut a little close to home, but it was the price she paid for keeping Caesar alive, and she would pay it every time.

"Well, if it isn't my second most hated nemesis," he said, taking in her bloodied arm. "That Vulpes is a piece of work, isn't he? Stitches?"

"Yeah, probably. And he didn't mean to," she said. He gave her a look as he walked over. "We were sparring. Accidents happen."

"I'm sure he's immensely contrite." He rinsed the wound with water and took a closer look.

"I should have blocked it. It was obvious he was surprised when he made contact. And I'm shocked. I thought at least Lanius would be above me."

"He is." He went and fetched his doctor's bag, pulling out a surgical needle and thread. "It's Lanius, you, then Caesar. I tend to hate the betrayer a bit more than the one I was betrayed to."

He threaded the needle and set it aside. He pulled out a bottle of vodka and poured some on the instrument.

"All the things you hold Caesar responsible for and I still beat him out?"

He poured some alcohol on her wound and she hissed. "It's personal, not rational." He paused, needle poised. "Do you want some Med-X?"

Six was touched. His words might be rough, but he was truly a forgiver. "Thank you for the offer, but-"

"Good, because I wasn't going to give you any." He plunged the needle into the skin and she bit back a scream. Asshole. But it was the price she paid. "Although I've come to a conclusion."

"What's that?" she asked, teeth gritted.

"You're just as much of a slave as I am. I mean, you chose it for yourself, unlike _my situation_-" he pushed slowly through the next one, drawing it out, "-but now that you're here, you have no ability to chose your own fate, either."

The slow, burning pain was worse than the stabbing quickness of the first thread. "I could leave," she bit out.

Arcade laughed hollowly. "Try it. I think Fox Boy would have something to say about that."

"He's not really my husband. Just in name. It's just what I had to do to stay here."

"_A caelo usque ad centrum_." He paused. "_Et nominibus._"

"I'm a little distracted for Latin right now, Arcade."

"For whoever owns the soil, it is theirs up to the sky and down to the depths. In name as well as truth."

"Is that an exact translation?"

Arcade shrugged, pulling on the thread. "Artistic license."

"Right. I'm surprised Caesar's left behind this charming personality."

Arcade tied off the thread and cut it, then dumped the rest of the vodka onto a cloth and handed it to her. "I know. Never thought I'd miss the bastard but Lanius is in charge of me now that he's gone. As you can imagine that isn't my preferred situation. Although my preferred situation-"

"Enough already," Six said, lightly shoving his shoulder. He hissed in pain. Six retracted her hand immediately and stared at him.

"He wasn't happy I didn't have a way to fix his _herpes simplex_. Or when I suggested amputation."

Six giggled. She couldn't help it. "You told Lanius to cut his dick off?"

Arcade shrugged, but a small smile played at his lips. "What can I say? Caesar might be an evil scourge on the Earth, but I got used to him laughing at my jokes. And honestly, if Lanius did cut his dick off I'd have a lot of happy girls in this camp, and a lot less herpes. He just punched me. I cringed quickly enough that I just got it in the shoulder. Hell of a punch, though."

Vulpes pulled back the tent flap. He was wearing his dog-head helmet. "Come. Quickly." He glanced at Arcade. "And you might as well start packing up. You're leaving, too."

"Leaving?" Arcade asked.

"For New Vegas, Profligate. Caesar has summoned us. So silence yourself and begin preparations."

He exited the tent and Arcade looked at Six. "Quite the charmer you've found yourself."

"He's not that bad, actually," Six said, standing and flexing her arm slightly. "Good stitches."

"Thanks. And remember, I can only deal with physical wounds. The psychological scars from your Stockholm Syndrome are beyond my expertise."

Six hurried to catch up with Vulpes. "He's summoned us?" she asked, a bit breathless. Hopefully he would attribute it to the light jog.

He glanced at her. "Don't excite yourself unduly." Apparently not. "He has summoned all of us. A small standing force will be left at the Dam, but Vegas is ready for full occupation."

He slowed down, and put his mouth to her ear. "Did that profligate physician say that the Legate has a genital disease?"

Six burst out laughing, but Vulpes didn't look amused. "Wait, why?" She sobered quickly. "Did you guys bang slaves together or something?" she asked. "Are you worried, you know, for yourself?"

Vulpes raised an eyebrow. "I don't see why you would have a vested interest in the answer to that."

"I don't, I just..." Six was at a loss. "I guess I don't."

They continued walking in what Six felt was a very uncomfortable silence. Vulpes didn't seem to notice. The bastard.

New Vegas was not ready for full occupation, and to Six's eyes it looked as though it never would be. There were tents everywhere. Legion members were only allowed to stay in the buildings of outer Vegas, and there weren't enough. The strip's lodging was off-limits. Caesar had pitched a tent outside the Lucky 38 as a show of solidarity. Even Lord Caesar resisted the temptation of the splendor of sinners.

Vulpes and Six were assigned quarters in the Casa Madrid apartment building. The door said Jimmy on the front. Apparently Caesar had originally intended this building for himself, and while the Praetorians had been clearing it one of them found the body of a young man and went postal, attacking other Praetorians for no discernable reason. The man had been crucified, of course, but not before his tongue had been cut out by Caesar himself.

Six suspected that was the main reason they had all been called back. There was a vacancy in the Praetorians and all of the Legion was able to try for the position instead of the usual protocol.

Vulpes was unconvinced. He had been too busy in meetings that week to be at the Casa often. With a lack of anything better to do, she made her way most days to the clinic. She didn't expect Arcade was ever pleased to see her, as such, but he was now responsible for setting up a clinic and dealing with centurions and others who had been injured in booby-traps left by the previous inhabitants. It was fun, if stressful work. Arcade was becoming less vitriolic towards her and she wondered if it was because he was now truly convinced she was as much of a slave as he was. She wondered if she was starting to become convinced herself. But it helped the time pass, and in the rare moments when there wasn't anyone to sew up there was good conversation. She smiled. Arcade never could resist good conversation, no matter who the partner was. That was probably why Caesar kept him around. He tried to convince her regularly that she was insane, but once that was out of the way they would speak on other subjects. She asked him about Spartans and their female warriors and she wondered why that couldn't be something the Legion adopted.

The door to the room slammed open. Vulpes was back from a meeting with Lord Caesar. "He wants us to raze this city to the ground. Literally," Vulpes said. "All the casinos must be turned to rubble and rebuilt to be "less grand"." He spat on the ground. "What was the point of us taking this city at all, then? I had contingency plans that would have allowed for the whole thing to go up in nuclear fire, but no. This was to be his Rome. But now we must knock it down with pickaxes and dynamite."

Six had seen Vulpes unimpressed with Caesar's decisions before, but not like this. He slumped down on the bed and put his face in his hands. "Clearly he didn't want it to be radioactive," she said. "He still wants this to be his capitol. He just doesn't want the sins of the old infecting the new. I think it's judicious and even estimable."

Vulpes' eyes narrowed at her between his fingers. "You've been spending time with the Profligate again. The quality of your vocabulary is down right elucidatory."

"He runs a clinic. I help set it up. There are legionaries with injuries who need his help."

"People notice, you know. How much time you spend with him. It does not help your case."

"My case?"

"Your desire to be seen as a legionary, my slow Dissolute whore." He caught her hand before she could slap him. "And that's another thing people have noticed. You are not nearly deferential enough in your actions, nor your words. That, coupled with your Profligate boyfriend-"

Six laughed. "I get it. You're upset that people think I'm cheating on you! How rich. You know this marriage is a sham."

Vulpes' lips twisted, in anger or a sneer Six couldn't see. The next thing she knew she was on her back on the mattress and Vulpes was looming over her. How long had it been since she'd been scared of this man? Since Nipton? She was wrong to forget who he was.

"Stupid girl. Do you want to ruin all our plans? Yes, it is very bad if people think you are committing adultery on your husband, the leader of the Frumentarii, with a dirty Profligate slave," he said, as if to a child.

Six wrenched her hand out of his grasp. "Fine, alright? I get it. I'm not sleeping with him. As if I could!"

"What is that supposed to mean?"

Six paused. "He still hates me for giving him to Caesar in the first place, is what I mean. The only reason he lets me down there is because there are too many injured legionaries to handle himself."

Vulpes didn't look convinced, but as revolutionary as he seemed to be when he was teaching her to fight against Legion custom, she didn't know if she could trust him with the knowledge that Arcade was gay. It wasn't something she had thought about before, but it made her feel guiltier about giving him to Caesar. She certainly didn't have the right to spill that secret now.

"Anyone can see us! We're only together in the clinic building. I'm here every night, as you well know."

Vulpes considered her from his position on her hips. The longer he looked at her, the more nervous she became. He wasn't going to attempt to prove anything, was he? The surprising warm tingling that thought sent down her spine was ignored. Because if he tried anything, she would fight him. She would not submit.

He leaned down and put his mouth next to her ear. She barely controlled a gasp as his breath ghosted on her cheek. "I have been much too lenient with you. There is more than one way to fight, and have been lacking in my instruction. Things that have been tolerated in the past, both by Caesar and by myself, will be tolerated no longer. You must learn your place in the Legion before you can break out of it." He moved away and off of the bed. "Unless you've decided you no longer wish to pursue this course of action. If you want to run away, I'm sure I could invent a believable excuse so they would not come looking for you." With that he sat down at the desk in the corner of the room, looking through papers and making notes. Clearly their conversation was over. She felt cold with the lack of his body heat, but her cheeks burned hot with shame and confusion.  



	4. Munus

She walked with Vulpes, in her place, one step behind him, around the arena. They would have to stand and watch the fights. With the sun beating down she thought longingly of the Tops stage, or even the private dining room in the UltraLux. Both of those places would serve their purposes well, also giving them a place to sit out of the heat. But that was weak, profligate thinking. A legionary might see the splendor that sinning could buy and be swayed to deceit. So in the sun they stood.

When they reached the head of the arena, she turned to Vulpes.

"No." He glanced at her. "Don't even ask."

"You don't know what I was going to say."

"Of course I know."

She rolled her eyes. "Of course you know."

"You want to enter in the tournament. No. You're not ready."

She scoffed. "I am ready. Even you said I could probably take on a Praetorian."

"I said _probably_. And I shouldn't have said it, anyway. It raised your confidence far too much." He gave her a thin-lipped smile. "And that's not what I meant, anyway. I meant our other lessons. The ones you are not doing nearly so well in."

"I walked a step behind you!" she whispered fiercely. "I'm wearing the clothes, aren't I?"

The hopefuls were gathering near the entrance of the arena. Six could see Caesar and Lanius making their way towards them.

"Yes, but you're rolling your eyes and talking back. People still see you as a woman. And so, you're not ready make them accept you as a warrior."

"Well, how is wearing dresses and being deferential going to stop them seeing me as a woman? You said they _need _to see me as a woman!" she hissed.

"A _Legion _woman. Now _be quiet_."

Caesar joined them at the head of the arena. Lanius had gone over by the fighters. Some of them looked intimidated by his mere presence. Those would fail. Caesar clapped his hand on Vulpes' shoulder and stood between them.

"Beautiful day for a _munus_, don't you think, Inculta?" He laughed loudly.

"Indeed, Lord. How many contestants do we have today?"

"Twenty-nine."

"An odd number. If only one more person would enter, it would make it a lot easier," Six said airily. Vulpes glared at her.

Caesar just laughed again. "True, but the _munus_ is closed to entries now. And it won't be too difficult. At the end of it, it's whoever comes out alive."

Six smiled at Vulpes when Caesar had turned. He shook his head back and forth slowly in warning.

"Although I imagine, Lord Caesar, if someone did go into the arena who wasn't on the list, and they beat the other contenders in fair fight, you wouldn't be too upset about that."

Caesar stopped smiling then, and gave her a strange look she couldn't quite read. It was either, 'Go for it, see what happens!' or it was, more sinisterly, 'Go for it, _see what happens.'_

"So, how is married life treating you, Courier?" he asked.

She looked over at Vulpes. He had one eyebrow raised. She looked back at Caesar and smiled. "It's, well, to be honest it's a lot to get used to. But it does have its benefits." She winked at Vulpes, who looked momentarily shocked as Caesar laughed again.

"Still a handful, Vulpes? It seems those ones are always a bit more fun. But you'd know all about that. There are a few Rangers still locked up in the old NCR military police building, if you want a look. Was going to throw them into the arena one of these days, but no harm if you want one."

Vulpes' eyes flicked to Six for a fraction of a second before replying smoothly, "Thank you, Lord Caesar, but I think I must pass. I have my hands quite full already."

The first pair of Centurions walked into the arena, and for the next three hours Six watched them closely. She was certain she could beat all of them. She had never gone at Vulpes with all her strength, but then again she was sure he had never, either. But these fighters were less than half an Inculta. She regretted not throwing herself in the ring-perhaps that's what Caesar was looking for, a bit of boldness-but with Vulpes standing there, watching her, knowing exactly what she was thinking, she didn't have the nerve.

* * *

It was night-time now, but the building was still hot. Six threw open the window when they walked in. What she wouldn't give to be in a tent right now, with sides that rolled up. She was so exhausted, from the heat and the mental strain of the day, that she collapsed down on the mattress. Her bed roll was too far away.

The noises of Vulpes getting ready for bed paused, then resumed as he removed his jewelry and set it on the table. The mattress dipped, then sounds of shoes hitting the floor. Rustle of clothes. The squeaking of springs as he turned and laid down next to her.

"Coming to bed with me tonight, Courier? You certainly did well today, after a brief stumble, so if you're looking for a reward-"

She flipped over onto her back. "I could have done better than Horatio."

Vulpes seemed to consider this. As if he hadn't already. The show irritated Six. "He is a very able fighter. It would have been close, certainly."

"Close? Are you serious?" She turned on her side to look at him. "I could have taken him with a sprained wrist."

Vulpes smiled. "Your confidence is something to behold. It certainly runs above your ability."

"Jerk. You really think he would have beaten me?"

"I said before that it would be close. I think a match like that would have come down to luck. And you don't want it to come down to luck. Luck usually favors the strong."

"Are you calling me weak?" He still hadn't looked at her once throughout these insults, and she was getting angrier.

"You watched fights between men who had equal amounts of strength. You are not considering how well you would block those same hits. You would not do as well."

"If you think I'm so shitty why don't we spar anymore?"

"We can spar, certainly, when I have more time to spare. We would need to do it secretly, of course, and that would be somewhat of a challenge. Though I suppose if we moved the bed to the side and did it in here people would just assume your screams were us having violent sex."

"Oh, please," she scoffed.

He turned to her now with a puzzled look. "Are you asking me to have violent sex with you?"

Six gaped at him until she saw the small upturn of his lips, the amusement in his eyes. She hit him with a pillow.

"Are we starting now?" he asked, shaking with repressed laughter.

"Ugh, shut up!" Six put the pillow over her face and mumbled something.

"I'm sorry, I couldn't quite hear that. Would you like me to begin the ravishing?"

"I _said_," she yelled, "that's not what I meant and you know it!" She moved the pillow a few inches to look at him. He was still laughing. "You think you're so fucking funny. I should ask your Ranger how much of her time she spent giggling."

That shut him up.

The silence that descended then was awkward, and Six didn't know how to broach it. Or if she wanted to. She was about to stand and go to her bed roll when Vulpes sat up. She looked at his back, noticing in the dim light the scars that crossed it. One of them she had put there herself during a sparring match. She had a strange desire to touch it.

"You said you didn't care to imagine it. All the times you bring it up leads me to think you imagine it often." Six still didn't know what to say, but it seemed he wasn't expecting a response. He left the bed and laid down on the roll next to the wall, back to her.

She stared at the ceiling. What just happened? Had she... hurt him, somehow?

Him?

The leader of the Frumentarii? Caesar's greatest spy?

She doubted it. Probably another twist in whatever game he was playing with her. Because otherwise it just didn't make sense.

* * *

Six woke up angry. Unfortunately, Vulpes was already gone so she had no one to argue with. She decided to go down to the clinic. Maybe Arcade would throw some vitriol her way.

And if Vulpes found out she went down there again, she was ready for that fight, too.

She dressed and tied her hair back from her face. It was going to be another scorcher of a day.

Horatio, the winner of the tournament, was standing at the entrance of the arena with some other legionaries. She supposed his training for Praetorian was delayed so he could bask in the glory of victory. The fucker. He noticed her less than friendly expression as she approached. He couldn't possibly understand what it was for, but it seemed it got his back up, anyway.

"Oh, look. Only free woman in the whole Legion. And now she's just Inculta's whore."

She stopped. She should keep moving. She should ignore this. It didn't matter what this pissant little shit thought of her.

"I am no one's whore. And if I am the only free woman in the Legion you better ask yourself why that is. Why is everyone afraid to put a slave collar on me?" she said quietly.

His friends looked uncomfortable. Clearly they remembered how favored Six once was by Caesar. But Horatio was drunk on success, and Six was drunk on fury.

"Probably because they don't need to. I heard you fuck all of them anyway."

She walked towards him slowly. He was taller than she remembered. But she was too far gone to care. Vulpes was intolerable, this life was intolerable, and Horatio was standing in front of her with everything she ever wanted. Now was the time. Fuck trying to be a good little Legion dog.

"Words are the weapons of women. Why don't you say that to me in the arena, you little bitch?"

Horatio laughed. She lunged with a fake throw to his face, but used her left hand to grab his machete from his belt. He pushed her back, hard, but she came away with the weapon. He looked shocked.

"How about the arena, then?" She smiled sweetly. "Now that I have a weapon and you don't?"

Horatio looked confused, and his friends did not seem inclined to help him. Cowards. "But. Women can't fight in the arena," he said.

"Fine," she said, dropping her stance and holding the blade loosely at her side. "Don't fight me in the arena. I'll give you your machete back. I won't do anything. But you and everyone else here will know it's because you're scared of a girl."

His face hardened. "Let's do it, then. Otho!"

Six smiled and threw his machete back. He caught it easily.

The arena leader didn't look convinced. "Women can't fight."

"Then I will die. What's it to you?" she spat.

"If you don't let us use the arena," Horatio added, "we will just use arena rules outside the arena. And perhaps we will break those rules. You'd have no way of knowing."

Otho pursed his lips. "If the whore wants to die, I should not stand in her way."

Six felt a momentary admiration for Horatio, who apparently knew just the right buttons to push on Otho. But that soon passed. She inspected the blades laying at the side of the arena and selected one. Horatio stepped inside. Six followed. "You're wearing armor while I wear a cotton dress? That's not sporting."

Horatio frowned. "It is light armor. It's not my fault you don't have any." He looked toward Otho, who frowned. "You know what? I don't care. I'll take it off. I don't want anyone claiming I had extra advantage. I will fight you fairly, and you will still die." He shed his red armor and put it outside, then smiled at her. "You're wearing a cotton dress while I wear underclothes? That's hardly sporting."

Her lip curled. "Fine," she said. They wanted to see her? Fuck it. They'd learn soon enough. She took the machete and sliced down through the fabric. She shrugged out of the shoulders to whistles and shouts, but she didn't care. She'd cut his heart out and eat it if she could, and let them all watch.

With a simple word from Otho ("Begin!") they started the dance. She tried to wrangle her fury into positive motion, as Vulpes had taught her. Let your fury burn cold.

Let the strong make the first mistake. And so she waited, barely contained, as they slowly circled each other.

"Come on, then, girlie. Make a move. Nothing to say? Staying silent? Just going to wait for me, huh? What a good girl."

Six was beyond talking. She would let the blade speak for her. He lunged. He was tall, he had reach, but clearly he wasn't used to fighting someone so much shorter than him. She ducked down completely under his arm and stabbed up towards his ribs.

"Little bitch!" He was bleeding, but not as heavily as Six would have liked. She smiled, brought the machete to her lips, and licked the blood from it. Horatio was shocked. Anything to put them off balance. Everything is a metaphor.

He was a quick learner, though. He didn't make that mistake again. And he was strong. His attacks pushed her back and only her quick feet kept her from being pinned against the wooden wall.

She sustained a number of cuts on her arms, defensive wounds, but he also had gashes; in his ribs, legs, even one on his ass. Bleed them out. Tire them. Save yourself to kill them. Always look for luck.

And she saw it. It was coming finally. Even with her reserved fighting style she was tiring. But she could see what would happen. He was charging her. He expected to end with her on the ground and him on top because he was bigger than her, stronger. Once he did that there would be no hope for victory. But there was a crack in the pavement; if she could get her foot at the right angle at the right moment and use it for leverage, she would end up next to him as he fell to the ground, back to her. As good as dead.

And it worked. She pushed off with her right foot, dodged the lunge. She grabbed his left shoulder and let his weight pull her down on top of him. No time to spare. She braced for impact and quickly got her machete down to his neck. No words, no jibes or speeches. Just blood. She stood somewhat shakily; now her left wrist was hurting, but she stood. She kicked Horatio over onto his back so his glassy eyes would be visible to everyone. And his lacerated throat.

There was no applause. There was usually wild cheering when a match ended. And her match, she saw, had attracted a lot of spectators. But all of them were silent. Well, she wasn't really expecting a warm acceptance.

"What the fuck is this, then?" The voice of Caesar sounded from the head of the arena.


	5. Chapter 4 and a Half

She pushed off with her right foot, dodged the lunge. She grabbed his left shoulder and let his weight pull her down on top of him. No time to spare. She braced for impact and quickly got her machete down to his neck. No words, no jibes or speeches. Just blood. She stood somewhat shakily; now her left wrist was hurting, but she stood. She kicked Horatio over onto his back so his glassy eyes would be visible to everyone. And his lacerated throat.

There was no applause. There was usually wild cheering when a match ended. And her match, she saw, had attracted a lot of spectators. But all of them were silent. Well, she wasn't really expecting a warm acceptance.

"What the fuck is this, then?" The voice of Caesar sounded from the head of the arena.

"It is Six, my Lord Caesar, at your service. I have culled the weak from your flock and stand ready to take my place," she replied, voice strong. He didn't seem happy at all, but this was it. All cards on the table now. Anything else would be pointless.

"You will be taking no places. What the fuck did you do this for?"

"To ensure your safety by only allowing the best and strongest to be at your side-"

"He hadn't even started yet!"

That brought Six up short. She had been so angry at him for having what she wanted. She didn't even think. She didn't know if there were rules about time limits, time for new Praetorian to prepare without being challenged. There probably were. "He was at the least a Centurion. He was supposedly the best of the Centurions. He fell to me."

"Oh, little girl. What have you done?"

Six snapped. "What do I have to do to prove myself to you?!"

"Well, first off, stupid girl, you have to have a dick. That's the way it works."

Caesar had jokes, did he? So did Six. "A dick?" She laughed. "I can get one of those real easy." She kneeled down over the dead Praetorian and reached under his battle dress. One quick slice with her machete and she lifted the bloody appendage towards her Lord. "There, got one." Caesar's mouth hardened to a thin line. She walked closer to him. "I killed him and cut his fucking dick off him. If that doesn't-"

"You murdered and mutilated one of your betters, Courier. I would be very careful what you do next." The rest of the Guard shifted uneasily.

"My betters? My _betters?_ He was clearly not my better, Lord Caesar. That much I have proven."

"You are an able fighter. But that is of no consequence."

"No conse-!"

"You were not _invited_ to be a Praetorian. You were never a legionary, and you are not a Centurion. A woman does not have the mental fortitude to perform as a warrior in society. It's the way of things."

She stared at him, disbelieving. She thought he understood. She thought he would prize her determination and skill, as it seemed he used to do. She thought wrong. "You love ancient history so much but you've forgotten about the Spartans."

He ignored her. "You're getting hysterical, sweetheart. Why don't you calm down before we have to put you down with the feral dogs?"

"A feral dog who won you the Dam. A feral dog who assassinated Kimball. Oliver. A feral dog who found you a doctor for your-"

A strong hand clasped over her mouth and pulled her backwards. Instinctively she raised her machete to cut it but as she looked down she saw a ring. She tilted it to her eyes with the edge of the blade. It was Vulpes' ring. Several things occurred to her at once. First, she must be perilously close to getting herself executed. Not that that mattered much to her; she had entered the arena thinking this day would see her either one of Caesar's Praetorians or dead. But thinking about it, she didn't particularly want to get whipped and crucified. A quick death in the arena would have been preferred.

Second, Vulpes was probably also in a lot of danger. If she had been promoted to Guard after winning the fight she doubted he would be in trouble. And if she had died in the fight that would have been the end of it. But now that she was alive and still not in Caesar's favor he would likely be held at least partially responsible for her actions. This man who still seemed as though he was protecting her, God knew why, did not deserve to be punished for her rashness.

Her hands shook as she forced herself to lower the machete. Vulpes was speaking, but she did not hear his words. She dropped the blade to the ground and only through a great force of will remained upright herself. This was the end. Everything she had worked for. Everything she had done. And it would never be enough for Lord Caesar.

* * *

A/N: Sorry about the short chapter. This was supposed to be at the end of the last one, but I messed up my formatting. :/ I'm just glad I realized before I posted the next bit! It's a pretty intense scene to lose in transit.


	6. The Northern Passage

Six woke up in the medical building. Everything ached, but that was not new to her anymore. It was fitting. She deserved to feel like shit. She would most likely be whipped and crucified shortly anyway, so what did it even matter? There was no meaning to this life. Vulpes was right. Arcade was right. She had fallen madly for the charismatic leader of a brutal people, and he had no intentions of ever taking her seriously.

Arcade entered the room. He looked at her, shook his head, and laughed.

"We've got to stop meeting like this," he said, and sat on a chair next to her.

"I'm sure this is the last time," she mumbled.

"You are certifiably insane, you know that?" He checked her stitches. He seemed uncomfortable. "Maybe you were right. About Caesar respecting my opinion."

"Oh, really?"

"He told me what happened. I told him again about the Spartans and their women warriors. I reminded him of all the things you helped them accomplish. God knows why, but I made a case for you." Six was shocked. "I shouldn't say that," Arcade continued. "I do know why. He was prevaricating. The great Caesar didn't know if he should string someone up on a cross or not. The chance to sway Caesar to mercy was too enticing to give it up for personal revenge." He shrugged. "Who knows? This could be the beginning of a change in the status quo. If they respect women on the battlefield, maybe that will lead to respecting women in society. And maybe that will lead to the discontinuation of using slaves. Or maybe I'm giving myself, or Caesar, too much credit. Maybe he'll kill you anyway. He went away with Lanius; who knows what's being said? Maybe Lanius is convincing him to kill both of us. He wasn't happy that Caesar was speaking with a _Profligate_ about what to do."

Six tried not to let herself become hopeful. Her hopes had been raised to often, only to be dashed again. No, this time she was destined for the cross.

"Thank you, Arcade."

"I didn't do it for you."

She smiled. "I know."

They faded into silence as they waited. There was nothing left to say. Caesar would come and tell them what would happen, and that was it. She would submit to his word with all the grace she had never shown before. What other option was there? Be dragged, kicking and screaming, to be crucified? Honestly, she just didn't have the energy.

It was at least an hour until they were joined in the medical building. Six had been dozing off and on. Arcade shook her awake when Caesar and Vulpes entered.

Caesar looked at her and his eyes narrowed. "Why can't I just kill you and be done with all this?"

Six didn't know what to say to that, so after a moment she just replied, "Ave, Lord Caesar."

He laughed. "If only you had been born a man I wouldn't have half the problems I do now. But maybe then you wouldn't have been so deadset on proving yourself. I should have known you weren't going to let this go. You climbed out of your grave to track down the man who killed you, and I thought you'd go quietly into obscurity just so you wouldn't be a thorn in my side."

Caesar sighed. Six waited. "I like your determination. I always have. But you can't be here, walking around. Your very presence causes dissent and discord in the ranks. It is very fortunate for you that you insisted on fighting in the arena. What happens in the arena is never murder. So that means I'm not required to have you killed."

Six frowned. "You called it murder. Earlier. Lord."

"I was fucking pissed off at you and trying to scare you. But Horatio went into that fight willingly, and lost fairly. That gives me leverage."

"What do you need leverage for, Lord Caesar? You're... Lord Caesar," she said.

"I have an empire to keep stable, Courier. It's complicated and difficult and damned tiring, and I'm not going to sit here and discuss the finer points with you. So shut up and listen. I don't want to kill you. You have more love for my Legion than many among my ranks, and more ability. No matter how much it would make Lanius happy, I can't disregard those facts. But like I said, you can't stay here. So I have a job for you. It is a job I have given to other Frumentarii and they have failed. You asked me once about the Burned Man. His name is Joshua Graham. He is another thorn in my side."

"He's alive?" Six interjected, stunned.

Caesar glared. "Like the legends say, he survived. Your job is to kill him. He is staying with tribals in a place called Zion, near New Canaan. Inculta knows where. He will guide you. Graham is a loose end. Cut it off." He fixed her with a stern look. "You will never speak of this to anyone. You don't want to sit at home and play the good wife, fine. But you are not recognized by the Legion as a member. You may be preforming as a Frumentarius but you are not one. You have no title. You will receive no recognition from the population at large for completing this task, so don't expect any."

Caesar walked out without any more words. Vulpes followed.

After a moment of silence, Six said, "Well. This is a turn up."

"I don't know, Six. I just... don't know," replied Arcade.

* * *

Vulpes said it would take about a month to reach Zion. Six didn't doubt it. They were moving slower than a one-legged mole rat on a hot afternoon. She was eager to complete the mission Caesar had given her. To be entrusted to kill the Malpais Legate! She hadn't been giving Lord Caesar enough credit. It was difficult to run an empire. He still valued her. She was disheartened by the fact he didn't seem to want her as she wanted him, but that didn't mean he didn't respect her or admire her skill and loyalty. She reasoned with herself; she may not see him, but as long as she was carrying out his will with speed and precision perhaps one day his mind would change.

Vulpes didn't seem inclined to talk with her about it, though. The one time she tried to bring up the mercy of Lord Caesar he had shouted at her that she was a stupid profligate and refused to speak further on that or any other subject. He was often lost in thought and she wasn't sure why. By being a part of this mission he was avoiding much of the rebuilding of New Vegas, and she knew he wasn't inclined to physical labor. Six found she didn't particularly care what his problem was, but it was making for a long, boring journey having no one to talk to.

The temperature was getting colder the more north they headed. She unrolled her mat next to the small fire for as much warmth as she could get. Vulpes was doing the same on the other side of the flames. The canyons they were now travelling through had the effect of a wind tunnel, but they climbed to a small cave - really, more of a slight indentation with a small landing - where they were safe from the worst of the gusts.

"Pork and beans?" she asked. "Or there's still some gecko steak left from yesterday. We should probably finish it. It's getting dry."

Vulpes waved his hand without looking at her, presumably he didn't care either way. Six speared the steak and held it above the flames to heat it. It was mildly less disgusting that way.

"So," she said. Vulpes ignored her still, unwinding what looked like a shiny blanket from his pack. "Wait, what is that?"

"A sleeping pouch," he replied simply, spreading it on top of his roll.

Six was surprised he even answered her, but didn't say it. "A sleeping pouch?"

"My name for it."

"Where did you get it?"

"Scavenging. It was inside of a broken vehicle."

"It doesn't look like it's very comfortable," she remarked, rotating the steak above the flames. He took all the weapons but the machete Six was wearing at her belt and put them inside the pouch. She was about to ask him why when he replied.

"You sleep inside of it, it isn't for cushion. It's for warmth. And to keep you dry."

"Dry?"

"In case of rain."

"Rain?"

He sat down on top of the pouch and raised an eyebrow at her. "It's when water falls from the sky." Six laughed. "I'm surprised your profligate boyfriend never told you about it. He seems learned."

Six stopped laughing. "Are you serious?"

Vulpes brushed some dirt from his shoulder. "Anyone can read books. Especially Followers of the Apocalypse. He certainly speaks enough Latin to humor Caesar-"

"No, I meant water. Falling from the sky. I've never seen that happen."

"It doesn't happen in the Mojave. Even before the war that area was a desert." He looked at her and sighed. "Which means it rained very little. After the war it stopped entirely in the region. But other places in the world still get rain. In Zion it rains quite often. Arizona, not so much. But occasionally."

"Water. Falling from the sky. Well, that would certainly solve a lot of problems."

"It is beneficial. Although the rain is usually at least somewhat irradiated."

"I guess that explains the phrase 'raining down.'" Six considered this as she pulled back the steak and cut it into two. It was only slightly warm, but it was a small fire, and she was hungry. "Is that why it's getting colder?" she asked as she passed a piece to Vulpes.

He took it and looked at it unhappily. Apparently he'd rather have pork and beans. "Why do you say that?"

"Water makes things colder."

"Does it?"

"Yeah. That's why we sweat when we're hot. When the water evaporates, it takes heat with it. Or something. My profligate boyfriend could explain it better."

He looked at her sharply, but she pretended to be engrossed in her steak. "The more northerly you travel, the colder it gets. Especially at certain times of the year. I imagine that by the time we reach Zion there might even be snow. Rain, halfway frozen, covering the ground."

"Now you're just showing off." She could see a small smile turn up the corners of his mouth. "You have been to Zion before, I take it?"

"Once," he replied, turning his face to look blankly at his meat again.

"Did that have anything to do with Joshua Graham?" she asked.

Vulpes threw his steak into the fire. Six sighed and reached for the pork and beans. "Yes," he replied. "Obviously."

"I thought phrasing it as a question might encourage you to open up about it." She cut the top off the can and nestled it in the coals. "We do have a mission, you know. Sharing of information could be helpful."

A strong gust of wind nearly put out the fire. Six wrapped her thin blanket around her. Just like Vulpes not to tell her it gets cold where they were going.

"I was there almost six years ago. Myself and another Frumentarius entreated the help of a tribal gang called the White Legs with promises of joining the Legion. We taught them many things about warfare." Six listened quietly, stirring the beans so they wouldn't burn at the edges. "They were supposed to kill Graham and the tribe he had allied himself with. They finally did take out the New Canaanites, but unfortunately Graham did not perish with them. He has since built up another tribe, but they are small and relatively weak. If you wish to join with the White Legs for support, you could do that. If you want to go about it some other way, you could do that, too."

Six remained silent as she used a rag to extricate the hot can from the embers. She doubted she'd be aligning herself with any dirty savages, but that wasn't what concerned her. She wrapped the can carefully before handing it to Vulpes.

"You speak like you aren't staying with me," she said quietly.

Vulpes raised an eyebrow at her. "Are you saying you doubt your ability to handle this on your own?"

"No! I just..." Six sighed. She knew they were nearing territory Vulpes had been refusing to talk about. But she wanted answers. "Up until now you've been helping me. In your way, I guess. And I don't know why. But still. You have been. And yeah, I fucked up. But clearly Caesar has forgiven me. I don't see why you're still upset. Now it sounds like you're going to leave me in a frozen wasteland like you don't care if I succeed anymore."

Vulpes said nothing and proceeded to eat the entire can of food without once looking at her. Six sighed and flopped down on her bedroll. When he was done eating, he set the can aside and said, "You _should _be doubting your ability. Five highly trained Legion assassins, some of them my own Frumentarii, have been unsuccessful. An entire tribe let him slip away. Caesar himself set him on fire and threw him into a canyon and he still survived."

"And I was shot twice in the head and I'm still here."

"You have been shot twice in the head at it has made you an imbecile."

"Whatever." The stars were hidden by canyon walls and clouds. She regretted getting him to talk. Silence was better than non-answers and insults.

"This is your mission. I am just leading you there. Caesar does not expect you to return." Vulpes stripped down to his underclothes and crawled into his weird pouch blanket. Six imagined he would get cold, the pouch didn't look much thicker than her own hopeless covering. She tried to ignore the implications of his words. Caesar didn't expect her to return, but had sent her anyway. That sounded like he meant for her to die. That couldn't be right. Could it?

Something cold struck her in the face. She reached up and touched it. Water. She heard soft pit-pat sound, and suddenly it was as though the sky opened and she was laying under a waterfall. Lovely. She looked over at Vulpes, but the light from the fire was gone and the rain was hard to see through. It looked as though he put his head under the blanket to escape the water. He did say it kept you from getting wet.

She went over and poked him in the shoulder. "Let me in."

There was a muffled noise that sounded an awful lot like 'no'.

"Don't be an ass, come on."

A cacophony of bangs sounded and Six screamed. She flung herself against the wall and looked around wildly. It echoed through the canyon. It reminded her of the Boomers. Did these tribes have that kind of technology? She thought of the weapons they had brought with them. Machetes, of course, Vulpes' ripper, a silenced 9mm pistol, some plasma grenades, a 12.7 SMG, and her anti-materiel rifle. Not anything to laugh at as far as weapons went, but nothing that could compare with Boomers' armament.

"Six!" Vulpes had opened his pouch an inch and was looking at her through the crack.

"I don't know what it is, but it's big!" she shouted. "We should move! Find cover!" She needed her rifle. It wouldn't combat whatever machinery had made that noise, but if she could find the person operating it through her scope that would be enough. If she could even see anything through this rain. But without it she felt very vulnerable.

"Shut up, Six! It's nothing!"

"We need to _move!_"

"Stop shouting and come over here!"

She dropped to the ground and crawled over to him, scanning the ridges of the canyon. "Give me my rifle, Vulpes."

"It's just thunder. It happens when it rains sometimes. And -"

A zig-zag of energy from the sky stabbed towards the ground further down the canyon. A moment later another peal of thunder crashed upon their ears.

"What the fuck was that? Is this the Brotherhood? Is that some kind of Archimedes?"

"What are you - Six, just take off your clothes," Vulpes shouted. That comment was so unexpected that it shocked Six into listening. "They are soaking wet and you're not wearing them in here with me."

She stared Vulpes, his one eye peeking out from inside the pouch. "What the fuck are you talking about? Now is not the time to be coming on to me, alright? _You_ need to get _out_ of the pouch, and we _both_ need to find cover."

"Coming on to you? Mars, above, Six, listen to me! No one is firing on us. It's just the rain. It makes lights and noises. So, for _fuck's sake_, take off your clothes and get in the pouch." She remained still. It didn't make any sense. Rain, cause all that? "_Six!_" But she supposed that even if someone was after them with a doomsday device, hiding might be a good idea, anyway. Her only other option was to wrestle her weapons from the foot of Vulpes' pouch and run into the darkness alone.

She stripped out of all her wet clothing and clambered into the pouch with Vulpes. It was surprisingly warm. The rain was beating down on them, which was uncomfortable, but as far as she could tell the water was staying outside the pouch.

After a moment, and some deep breathing, she managed to calm down a bit. She could feel Vulpes shaking next to her.

"Are you... are you laughing at me?" asked incredulously.

The shaking subsided. "Yes. Yes I am."

Six ground her teeth in frustration. "Well, excuse me Mister _Well Traveled_, but that shit is terrifying. You might have mentioned _laser strikes from the sky_ as something that happened with rain. Unless you were just bullshitting me."

"I was not. And I didn't mention it at first because it doesn't always happen. The water falling is called rain, but when all this happens together it is called a storm. I admit I was... startled as well, the first time I encountered it."

"Startled. Mmhmm." Now that calm was returning she did feel a bit foolish. And increasingly uncomfortable. Naked and wet and trapped in a bag with another tangle of limbs and a bunch of guns by your feet was not an ideal location. This was also the closest she had ever been to Vulpes by a long shot. Their entire bodies, shoulder to ankle, were pressed against each other. Unbidden, she thought of Caesar, and how much better this situation would be if it were him in there with here. Except that apparently he didn't care if she lived or died. Her thoughts veered towards a dark place before Vulpes' voice cut them off.

"But no, I wasn't laughing at your reaction. Though it was very amusing and I probably will do so many times in the near future. I just didn't expect you to get in here completely naked."

"What? You told me to take off my clothes!"

"Yes, but I thought you'd keep your underthings on at least."

"They were wet! You said no wet clothes!"

"You are also wet yourself. A pair of underwear would hardly have made much difference."

"You are such an ass." With difficulty, she managed to roll away from him. After a minute or two, the rain had collected on the gap made by their bodies. She could feel Vulpes moving around to try and fix it. It was probably very uncomfortable for him. She smiled to herself. After a few minutes of fumbling, he cursed. Suddenly his arm gripped her around the waist and pulled her toward him. She yelped.

"Don't get any ideas. It's just for convenience."

She pushed his arm away angrily and before she even thought about what she was saying, she snapped, "Is that what you told your Ranger?" She immediately felt guilty. He always got upset when she brought up the Ranger, and she hadn't really meant to do that now. Her nerves were just fried from the storm. And, admittedly, the embarrassment.

After a moment of incredibly tense silence, he shifted closer to her so his whole chest was tight against her back. He put his mouth next to her ear. She knew this wouldn't be pleasant, but she knew she had to take his venom in stride after what she had said. "You wish you had more in common with my Ranger, don't you?" he whispered, breath hot on her neck. "You seem to spend a lot of time thinking about what I did to her. Do you imagine it, late at night, when you're alone on the bedroll you insist on using?" This was certainly a tactic she wasn't familiar with, and it was succeeding in making her feel guilty and strangely queasy. "Is that why you use it?" he asked. "Protect a false sense of innocence while you fantasize about me descending on you in the dark? Would you like to experience what she did? Should I tie your hands behind your back and assault you with my teeth, or perhaps the tip of my blade? Would you like to see your blood on my lips? Or-"

"Shut up!" Six raised her hand to cover her ear, but he caught her wrist.

"Or perhaps," he continued, "you throw it in my face so often because you want the opposite. Do you want me to lay you down softly on a bed of broc flowers, shower you in kisses? Make sweet, sweet love to you as the dawn breaks?"

To be honest, she had considered, in a vague sort of way, that he was an attractive man. The sorts of things they could do together if they were so inclined. But whenever she did, an image of Caesar always took his place. "You really are an egomaniac if you think I want any of those things," she breathed. Caesar, a man who would never notice her. Who had sent her to Zion to die.

She could feel him chuckling again. "Indeed. You sound positively appalled. I bet," he said, the hand around her side moving slowly downwards, "that you won't stop me."

His fingers inched past her navel. "Please," she whispered.

"Please what?"

She couldn't think. Adrenaline from the storm, the proximity of Vulpes, and the rising feeling of betrayal that now came hand-in-hand with thinking of Caesar combined in her to form a paralytic, a strangely anxious and depressed panic. "Please... stop."

His hand was gone in an instant, and Six didn't know what she felt. She resented Caesar, maybe even was starting to hate him. But she still couldn't find room in her head for anyone else. And she didn't even know if this was what Vulpes really wanted. He was probably just trying to make her uncomfortable enough to stop bringing up the Ranger. She wondered what he would have done if she hadn't asked him to stop. She felt herself getting angrier and angrier. She accepted his insults - more or less - and his general weirdness for the benefit of his help and she had never questioned it since that first day. But she was tired of it. She was tired of putting up with a sexist culture to try and impress Caesar, and she was tired of tip toeing around Vulpes for whatever scraps of help he decided to throw her way.

"I don't want to do this anymore," she whispered. But if Vulpes heard her, he didn't respond.


	7. Some Kind of Lucky

A/N: liberties taken with cannon dialogue -

* * *

The next morning dawned bright and cold as she stumbled out of the sleeping pouch. Vulpes didn't speak, and Six didn't look at him as they got dressed and packed up camp. He settled his pack and was about to move out when Six stopped him.

"I want my rifle," she said. He raised an eyebrow. Six sighed. "Please."

"You were happy to let me carry it so far. Probably because it's about twenty pounds. I doubt you could even hold it steady to aim."

She sneered at him. "I know how to handle weapons. And I want mine. That is enough of a reason." Without another word he removed it from the pack and handed it over. She felt calmer, now. "And the ammo for it."

"It has a full magazine," he pointed out. "The ammo is heavy. With all the climbing we have to do-"

"I want all of it. It's mine. And I won't be doing any climbing with you, anyway, so don't worry about me slowing you down."

Vulpes stood very still and stared at her. After all their time together, she felt like this was the first time he was actually seeing her.

"You're leaving."

Six said nothing.

"You're giving up." Vulpes scoffed. "Over last night? After everything we've done, everything we've sacrificed-"

"We, is it?"

"Yes, _we_, you stupid profligate! My time, my energy, my reputation, all suffering because of you. This mission is not only _your_ punishment."

Six sighed. "I don't care anymore, Vulpes. I'm sick of constantly trying to prove myself. Sick of playing this game. Wondering if I've been deferential enough to be aggressive. People treat you like a slave often enough you start to wonder if you are one. So please, prove to me I'm not a slave. Give me my ammo, and let me go."

Vulpes didn't move. "You think I treat you as a slave?" he asked quietly.

"You and everyone else! Give me my ammo!"

"I suppose... I suppose that my behavior was-"

"I don't care about your false apologies, Vulpes. Whatever elaborate con you were trying to pull on me is over. I'm not buying it anymore."

"You don't trust me?"

"I never trusted you. You never made any _sense_," she spat. "I listened to you because whatever your motives were, we seemed to have the same goals. Now I don't. I don't care anymore. I want out."

"Selfish ingrate. When our situations were reversed I didn't refuse help to you. I still worked with you even though I didn't trust you."

"Yeah, because we were both working for the Legion. Vulpes, my drive is gone. I'd care if I could, but," she shrugged. "I just don't think there's any point anymore. I'm never going to get anything out of this."

Vulpes strode over to her with a furious expression. She tried not to flinch as he got right in her face. "This isn't about you. This is about the future of the Legion. You have been given such a gift. You have the power to generate change. You should have listened to me and waited, but even now you have more chance than anyone else. Imagine what will happen if you return to Caesar with Graham's head in a sack? A mission he thought suicide! He is halfway to the realization that if you are competent, so must other women be if given the chance. There could be a Centurium of female fighters in your lifetime if you _cared enough _to make it happen." Six tried to speak, but he got louder. "You still think like a profligate, after all this time. You are only in it for yourself. _You_ want Caesar's favor. _You_ want to be respected. Now, just because you're a bit uncomfortable, just because the road looks a bit too long for your taste, your hesitant loyalty to the Legion is gone. Caesar was right to call you mercenary."

Six yelled in frustration and turned away from him. "Why do you even care? You want the Legion to let women be warriors? Why the fuck do you even _care_?"

"Rest assured, Courier, it has nothing to do with you."

Six laughed. She couldn't help it. She was confused and frustrated and angry as hell, and she couldn't understand Vulpes or the reason he was trying so hard. She couldn't understand the point of anything anymore.

"Well," she said, trying to stifle her giggles. "That's certainly a relief. Very helpful. I trust you completely now."

"You shouldn't need to trust me to hear the truth when it's spoken to you."

"It would certainly help." Vulpes said nothing. Six's face hardened. "Then give me the ammo."

She heard the bag drop to the ground. Rustling. The slap of magazines on the ground. She turned and retrieved them. Vulpes' face was stony and blank. He really was letting her go. He tried to talk her around, and then let her make her choice to leave. She wanted to scream at him again, make him tell her why this was so important, and why, if it _was _so important, he would let her walk away from it.

She stood and looked at him for a long moment. And honestly, for all that she wanted to leave, she couldn't actually think of anywhere to _go_.

"If I do this, if I kill Graham and Caesar is impressed and everything you say comes to pass. Will you tell me why?"

"If everything I hope comes to pass, everyone in the Legion will know why."

"Oh, well, what the hell," she laughed. "It's not like I have anything better to do right now." He gave her a strange look. "But if you won't answer that question, at least answer this one. Why do you keep fucking with me like that?"

Vulpes shrugged. "I like to see people squirm."

"Finally, a straight, honest answer." She looked towards the north, the ragged canyon pass they would be taking. She looked back at the comparatively smooth way south. "From now on, I'm helping you, you're not helping me. Don't do it again, or I'm leaving."

Vulpes cocked his head to the side. "As you wish, Mercenary."

Six scoffed. "Besides. I don't want your _genital disease_."

Vulpes' eyes got wide. "My what?"

"The herpes you got from banging slaves with Lanius. Or perhaps from banging Lanius, I don't-"

Vulpes laughed suddenly. "Oh, my. I'd forgotten about that."

She raised an eyebrow. "You forgot about having herpes?"

He quieted his chuckles. "I have never engaged in anything with Lanius. I abhor the man. Besides. Our styles are... different."

"Yeah. I suppose Lanius wouldn't have implied he had a diseased dick just to fuck with someone."

"I didn't know the state of my nether regions affected you so greatly."

Six narrowed her eyes. "You're straying into dangerous territory."

"You brought it up," he said, unconcerned.

She ground her teeth and fought a desire to shoot him in the face.

* * *

It wasn't enjoyable carting her heavy rifle and ammunition through the canyons, but she felt better having it with her. Besides, she used to carry a lot more than this before the Second War. She just had to get used to it again.

Or she could do what she meant to that morning, and leave. She thought on it often during the last stretch of their journey. But again, where would she go? She had helped the Legion take control of the New Vegas area, so she couldn't go back there. She couldn't go east. She couldn't go west into NCR controlled lands. She had no idea what was north of Zion. She heard there were settlements to the far south. How far south she didn't know, and she would have to go through Legion controlled areas to get there. And with her face on the money she didn't think she'd get through unseen.

So that was it. Disappear into the north, climbing through canyons and mountains hoping to stumble upon something, or travel south through Legion lands for hundreds of miles to start over in another shitty town.

Or. She could listen to Vulpes. And there was the slimmest of chances that everything she wanted could yet be achieved.

Not much of a choice when she thought about it. She had her rifle back, but not her freedom.

* * *

Six left Vulpes behind as they neared Zion. She could tell he didn't like the idea. He probably didn't trust her at all anymore, now that she'd lost her blind loyalty to the Legion. But he was smart enough to know that if he was seen by any of the tribals the job would be much more difficult than it needed to be. As a woman, Graham wouldn't suspect she had Legion ties. For once sexism worked in her favor, she thought humorlessly.

There was a caravan ahead of her. They had spied it a few times on their travels. They devised a plan to approach and try to get a place travelling with them. She had a backstory all worked up.

The sound of guns and shouting echoed from up ahead. She climbed up to a small outcropping of rocks and moved forward to see what was happening around the corner. The caravan was receiving fire. Looking through her scope, she saw a group of tribals. And how very tribal they were. Their hair was twisted into locks and they were covered in some kind of paint. But they weren't wielding spears; their munitions were on par with her own. It was clear the caravan members, despite having numerous guards, were not long for this world. Six didn't want to reveal herself if in this situation if it could be helped. She waited, hidden, for the conflict to resolve itself.

The tribals, having finished with the caravan members, made their way towards the loot, and consequently her. They would probably shoot first and ask questions, well, never. So she would have to shoot first, first.

She picked them off carefully. They had good weapons but their armor left a great deal exposed. She quickly dispatched the hostile tribals and after waiting for a moment to survey her surroundings she jumped from the rocks and continued walking. She glanced at the dead caravaneers, noting the words Happy Trails on their packs. She snorted at the irony.

After crossing a bridge she heard more shots, and immediately dropped to the ground and rolled off the path. When she looked up she saw two tribals fighting on top of a boulder. She aimed her rifle, but waited to see who would win the fight, and if they would resume firing on her.

As it happened, the mysterious tribal did not fire on her. Simply waited. She got up warily, but it didn't seem like a trap.

"Hoi! White Legs don't leave survivors often. You're some kind of lucky, let me tell you," he said as she approached.


	8. Arrival at Zion

A/N: Helpful reminder of tribal language:

ahk iss - friend

roo too nait - rest well

sohl tyeh - let's go

ya ah tahg - hello/good day

The rest should be clear in context.

* * *

"Hoi! White Legs don't leave survivors often. You're some kind of lucky, let me tell you," the tribal said as she approached.

"I didn't give them much of a chance," she replied with a grin. So those were Legion hopefuls that she killed. Oh well.

"Sorry we weren't fast enough to save your friends, though. The Dead Horses will remember them in our prayers." The kid actually looked sad as he said it, too. How cute. And he thought she was with the caravan, just as planned. Better than planned, really, as now there were no caravan members to deal with. "You should come with me now - Joshua Graham will want to meet a visitor from the civilized lands."

And so she went.

The kid was named Follows Chalk for some weird tribal reason and had a strange kind of naivety; apparently trusting of anyone who was not in White Leg clothing, but untroubled by the superstitions held by the rest of his tribe. Six tended to sneer at tribals, raiders, and junkies. Surprisingly, she found herself enjoying Chalk's company slightly. At least he spoke English. Vulpes had said not many of the tribe knew the language.

"There's a nice view from the top of that cliff, if you want to take a look."They stopped at the summit ate some of the plentiful banana yucca fruit while Follows Chalk told her of the two New Canaanite tribes in the area, named the 'Dead Horses' and the 'Sorrows', as though they were asking for hardship. And he told her about Joshua Graham. How he rallied them to work with Caesar, then rallied them to work against him. He must be damn charismatic, Six thought. Or maybe they were just all as trusting as Chalk.

They talked for a while and Six got the impression Chalk wasn't happy with tribal life. She sympathized, and asked, "What's with this obsession you seem to have with "civilization"?"

He told her a story about a familiar sounding musician he had met. "I couldn't believe that there was a place in this world where a man could do that. I promised myself then that one day I'd explore that world myself," he said, looking earnest as ever. Six smiled. He clearly wasn't as ignorant as the rest of his tribe; still scared of empty buildings. Maybe he had a chance, after all.

"Huh, I think I know that guy. Small world."

"Is it? I always heard it was rather large outside the valley. Well, wherever he is, I hope he's well."

Six had killed him, but she figured Chalk didn't need to know that. The traveler had an interesting pistol. She had stashed it somewhere and never went back for it (high-powered sniper rifles being more her thing at the time), but Chalk didn't need to know that, either. He would like to be in a civilized society, she thought, if he was eased into it.

And anyway, a war with the White Legs would kill his innocence just as much as the Wasteland would.

* * *

They traveled for a few hours, and Six grew more apprehensive the closer they got to the Dead Horse camp. When Chalk said he would take her to Graham, it seemed too good to pass up. But now she wondered how she would kill Graham and get away if he were in the middle of an encampment of savages. There must be some way. Poison? She knew a little about how to survive in the wilderness, but many plants in this area she hadn't seen before. Maybe they were poisonous. Maybe they were not. She had the silenced 9mm if the option presented itself. All she could do was wait and see what she was working with, but it still put her on edge to not have a concrete plan.

They traveled down a river, avoiding traps under the water, and into a small camp. There weren't too many tribals around, and they mostly seemed to be carrying clubs and not guns. It looked good for getting out alive if they all turned hostile, but still. One against seven or eight was never the best odds. Luck favored the strong, and she knew she was not as strong as ten tribals, no matter what Vulpes said about her superiority complex.

She entered the cave.

"Hoi owslander. Zookah Joshua Graham?"

Excellent. The English was short lived, then. Six wondered why someone who couldn't communicate properly would be put at the entrance of the cave to welcome visitors. She supposed they didn't get many visitors. Or they were just stupid.

"Am I... looking for Joshua? Yes, I am. Can you tell me where he is?"

"You know our tongue. Smart owslandr. Joshua in high place of cave. You show respect, utman! Joshua is greatest warrior. You show him no respect, he show you thunder and fire."

Six rolled her eyes. "Umm... okay. Thanks for that. I sure would hate to be shown thunder and fire."

"Ha ha, funny owslander. Maybe soon dead owslandr."

Six's lip curled. "Back off, savage. I'm just here for a map out of this shithole valley, not kowtow to your messiah."

"Shaiss! would kill you myself but Joshua says no harm to visitors until harm done to us. Go, owslandr. Meet Joshua. We see how long you talk like that."

The woman turned away, clearly disdainful of Six's conversation. That was fine. She didn't come here to make nice with some dirty tribals. Six thought of Follows Chalk. The one who could speak English was kept busy following hunters, and that insolent savage was in charge of speaking with civilized traders. This tribe should welcome Legion rule.

Six made her way up the cave and soon found the man she was looking for.

He was cleaning guns. In case she got any ideas.

He was also covered head to foot in bandages, only a slit showing his pale blue eyes. They seemed to shine like the pistols he polished.

"We should have given you a better welcome on your first visit to Zion, but from what I hear the White Legs beat us to it."

He went on to talk more about White Legs, and a lot about God. His voice was deep and powerful; she could see how easily he made ignorant tribals believe in him. They probably thought he was divine himself. He bought her story about being a Happy Trails caravan guard immediately. After all the Legion assassins sent after him, he still didn't imagine that one would be female. It wouldn't be too difficult to get her silenced 9mm out of it's holster and shoot him in the head. He had his pistols, but they all looked to be unloaded for cleaning. If worst came to worst she could probably shoot her way out of the cave, and-

He continued, "And you're a courier, no less. Not the one I was expecting, but I suppose he wouldn't have come with a caravan."

Six felt like she hit a wall. It had been a long time since Primm, since Johnson Nash had told her about another mysterious courier. She had told herself her past didn't matter, and that was true enough. It had fallen to the back of her mind while Hoover Dam and everything else was going on, but she had never forgotten. And here, in this of all places, it was coming up again.

If Six was given a choice between finding out about the mysterious courier from her past and fulfilling the mission, she would pick Graham's head in a sack. But Caesar wasn't here, and who said she couldn't have both?

* * *

Joshua Graham wanted walkie talkies, a compass, and a medical kit. What a world these people lived in. A bunch of savages who couldn't walk into a building to get their own medical supplies. But hopefully Graham would trust her after she secured the items. She had questions about the mysterious courier, and Graham sensed her curiosity. True to the nature she thought he had, not the incredibly optimistic one Chalk thought he had, he refused to speak with her on the subject until she helped him. So be it.

* * *

Six delivered the objects to Daniel in the Sorrows camp. He was almost as naïve as Chalk, but not quite. He wouldn't part with any of his supplies, even when Six offered to pay for them.

"But, I have... caps. Many of them. Let me show you all of my fine caps."

He laughed. Six admitted she wasn't very good at bartering. "I'm sure your caps are fine, but I have to hold on to the supplies I have. Sorry," he said, and he looked sorry, too.

"Fair enough. Do you know where Joshua is?"

Daniel waved his hand towards the end of the canyon. "He's down there somewhere. I was hoping that you'd talk to him for me. Assuming he hasn't already talked you into fighting the White Legs."

"Wait, you don't want to fight them?"

"We cannot use any and all means available just to protect stone and water and a piece of sky. We have to hold on to our faith. Far more enduring. If we sacrifice grace for a piece of land, we may live in this valley, but we will no longer dwell in Zion. It's better for us to leave now."

"Oh." Six frowned. She didn't really understand what he was saying, but she did know that the Legion would follow them eventually, wherever they went. His pacifist nature wouldn't survive. He sounded like he'd rather the Sorrows die martyrs than take a stance, though, so she remained quiet. It wouldn't help to call him a gibbering idiot at this point in her deception.

Daniel smiled and put a hand on her shoulder, startling her. "I don't hold your nature against you. You're a - an outsider. Fighting seems like the practical solution. But there's more than that at stake."

"Right. Well, yeah. I'll talk to Joshua about it."

He squeezed her shoulder. "Thank you. Even our Lord had doubts. Think it over, but listen to your heart. And do it quickly. We don't have much time."

He turned then and walked away. Six watched him go. Did they even want these weak tribals in the Legion, who would run instead of fight? Six shook her head. They weren't her concern. She went to find Graham.

* * *

She found him walking through the river, alone, apparently deep in thought. As good an area for a sneak attack as any. The silenced 9mm wouldn't echo on the canyon walls. Or if she got close enough she could use the machete. But she wanted answers first.

"I delivered the supplies to Daniel."

He looked at her for a moment, then replied, "Yes, I know. And I suppose he had something he wanted you to talk to me about."

"He did, but there was something I wanted to talk about first."

"Ah, yes. The courier I mentioned earlier. Why do you want to know about him?"

"Call me curious."

"I'd rather call you Courier. Curiosity is not a luxury we have time for."

Six held back an irritated sigh. "You should make time. I'm not going to help you anymore if you don't talk to me."

"I doubt that. You seem to desire this information greatly. I imagine you'd do a lot for it."

She sneered. "If you weren't covered in bandages I'd think you were making a pass at me, Graham."

He laughed. "You don't know me as well as you think you do if you think I'd force someone to trade sexual favors."

"Or I know you just the right amount." Six stalked towards him. She was tired of running around for whatever scraps men decided to throw to her. The supplies were got, and she deserved answers. "You might have convinced these backwards tribals that your time in the Legion isn't important, but I know what men in red are capable of."

He raised an eyebrow at her. "You have experience with men in the Legion? Are you an escaped slave?"

"Now you're asking me questions when you haven't answered any of mine. I wonder how well that will go."

He looked at her consideringly. Six let him. Any conclusions he was drawing were doubtless completely wrong. Rain started to fall as she waited.

"A Frumentarius often will work as a courier in the employ of Caesar. They scout and gather intelligence. Ulysses was one of the best. I haven't heard of him in years, but of course for a man like that, that's a mark of doing his job well. The Legion has sent many assassins after me. I assumed he would show up eventually."

"That's all you got?" she asked.

"I don't know where he is, if that's what you're asking. He's a Frumentarius, he could be anywhere."

He looked like he was telling the truth. If that was the case it seemed it had nothing to do with her mysterious courier at all. Probably.

"I did hear rumors about a place called the Divide. I doubt he's there now, after all this time. But it's all I can tell you." He reached forward and put a hand on her shoulder, just as Daniel did. She itched to cut it off at the wrist. "I'm sorry I can't be more helpful. I heard many things about what the Frumentarii would do to their women. After this is all over, I hope you find him. And your restitution."

Six rolled her eyes and slit his throat.

* * *

She used bandages from Graham's body to wrap his head carefully, then packed it in her bag. She filled the bag with datura root to disguise the smell. It wouldn't be pleasant travelling back to New Vegas with it, but it would be worth it to throw it at Caesar's feet. She also took his pistol. It was unique. She washed the blood from her face and hands.

As she made her way out of the canyon, she ran into Follows Chalk again. She was glad for the rain; it gave her an excuse for her black clothing to look wet.

"Ya ah tahg! Have you seen Joshua around? Daniel said you went to find him."

Six hesitated. "Yeah, I, uh, talked to him about your thoughts on civilization."

"Ya?" He looked excited. "What did he say?"

"He said... that a man must follow his heart. No matter where it leads him."

"Dank ni, ahk iss - I never would have had the growans to ask him myself. Hoo! I'm going to do it. After this is all over, I'm going to go explore civilization!"

Six hesitated again. It would not be pleasant if Chalk found out what was in her bag, but she couldn't leave him here. He wasn't as ignorant as the rest of the tribals. He wanted to better himself. And when the White Legs attacked, he would probably be killed. Storm drums against war clubs. It would be a massacre. The rest of the savages deserved it. But Six didn't want that fate for him.

"Why don't you come with me now?" she asked suddenly.

"What, and leave the tribe to fight White Legs on their own?"

"The tribes aren't going to fight. Daniel.. and Joshua.. are going to run away. They don't think you have a chance against the White Legs."

Chalk looked disappointed. "Joshua said Daniel wanted to do that. I guess he talked him into it, eh?"

"Yes. So there's really no point in sticking around anymore." Chalk didn't seem convinced. "And I'm leaving now, going back to civilization. I can take you there."

He considered that. "I should go say goodbye to Joshua. Wish them luck on their journey."

"There's no time," Six snapped.

Chalk looked at her. "It would only take a few minutes," he pointed out.

"A few minutes that I don't have. You can come with me now or not." A part of her hoped that he would refuse. It would make her journey easier. But another part, the part that refused to be quiet, hoped that he wanted civilization badly enough to agree.

And he did. "It would be better than travelling on my own," he said. "I'm not much of a fight to a Yao Guai. Sure, sohl tyeh."

This was a bad idea, Six knew. She should have just left him to die.

She let him stop on the way out to tell a Sorrow to pass his goodbye on to Joshua.

* * *

A/N: If it seemed out of the blue that Six was trying to buy supplies from Daniel, it kind of was. I just couldn't not put that failed speech check in. It made me laugh out loud during my playthrough. Ditto on some of the Sneering Imperialist dialogue.


	9. The Southern Passage

A/N: Helpful reminder of tribal language:

ahk iss - friend;

roo too nait - rest well

sohl tyeh - let's go

ya ah tahg - hello/good day

The rest should be clear in context.

* * *

Six warned Chalk that she was meeting with another traveler, but Vulpes was not where she had left him, and she could find no sign of him in the area.

"Perhaps the White Legs found him, maybe," Chalk said, with regret.

"Yeah. Maybe." But privately she disagreed. It was much more likely that he had realized their endeavor was bound to be fruitless and left her. But she had her Pip-Boy still, and she could find her way back.

They made their way south through the canyons without him.

* * *

They were making much better time than she had on the journey north. At this rate they would be back to New Vegas within a few days. While Vulpes had kept them at a slow crawl, Six got up at sunrise and never stopped moving until the dark made the canyons dangerous. Every time she thought of resting the memory of telling Follows Chalk they didn't have five minutes to spare for goodbyes would fill her with guilt.

Also the knowledge that the datura would disguise the smell of decapitated head for only so long. It made her slightly queasy whenever she opened the bag to get packaged food. She tried to stick to fresh-caught game, and only opened the bag away from her companion.

Chalk didn't mind the pace, but then he wasn't carrying much. He offered to take the bag from her and she had almost screamed at him to leave her alone. She had managed to carry on with Arcade reasonably well even though she had sold him into slavery. She felt guilt at it, but it never threatened to overwhelm her. And Arcade was actually a relatively good man. Graham was not.

She looked over at Chalk. He was laying on the ground eating potato chips from a box. He would throw one up in the air and try to catch it in his mouth. She could barely see in the light of the fire, but she thought she could make out a hint of a smile on his face.

Without thinking of what she was doing, she rose from her bedroll and went to lay down beside him. The ground was cold, but he was warm. He paused in his chip-throwing. He shifted the blanket over them both and said, "Chilly tonight, eh?"

Strange, how spending a week traveling through canyons and barely speaking could make her feel so protective. And so guilty, because all he really needed protecting from was her.

She didn't regret killing Graham. She would throw his head at Caesar's feet if it was the last thing she did. After that, well. Perhaps she would wander, with Chalk. Without the weight of Graham's head it could be better. It was a much more appealing thought than wandering on her own. Perhaps that's why she lied to him, gave him the permission of a dead man to follow his dreams. She could couch it in pleasanter terms, say she did it to help him, to raise him up from the savagery he lived with. Even say it was to save his life from the White Legs.

But Six knew who she was. She laid on the hard ground and remembered the new name Vulpes had given her, Mercenary, and she knew it was true. She had done it for herself; the same reason she had done everything she could remember.

Maybe before she got shot in the head she had been a good person, but she certainly wasn't now.

She said nothing as Chalk's warm arm went around her shoulders and made a pillow for her head, just accepted the warmth and security it provided.

"Roo too nait, ahk iss."

* * *

The next evening Chalk roasted a rabbit over the fire and asked her what they were going to do when they reached civilization.

She stared at the dancing flames and said, "I have to meet with my employer."

"Oh, right. Tell them what happened to the caravan?"

Six was momentarily confused until she remembered Happy Trails. She laughed, slightly bitterly. She had lied to Chalk so many times she couldn't even remember them all.

"I'm just a courier," she said. "My employer won't care about the caravan."

"They wouldn't care that those people died?"

"No." She looked up from the fire. Chalk looked unhappy. Her stomach clenched. "Not everything about civilization is good, you know," she said harshly. He looked up at her, but she couldn't stop. "You know about the wars and the gambling and there is so much evil in the world, but you wanted to come, anyway. Don't get squeamish now."

He looked away. She sighed. "Sorry."

"It's okay, ahk iss. I know you are saddened by the loss of your friend. I don't hold it against you." He smiled at her. "Even when you make us climb all day without stopping for lunch."

Six couldn't return his smile. He thought all her agitation was over Vulpes going missing. Of course he did. Even someone as naïve as Chalk noticed how strangely she had been acting, and he thought the best of her. He would never assume she was hiding terrible secrets.

She changed the subject.

"How long would it have taken for the Dead Horses to make you a full scout?"

Chalk rotated the rabbit and settled back down. "A few years, maybe. It doesn't just happen. You prove yourself on a big hunt, or some other thing, you become a scout. Whenever they think you are ready, I guess."

"What if they never did?"

"Why wouldn't they?"

"I'm just saying. Hypothetically."

"Eh?"

"Hypothetically. It means... pretend. Pretend they never give it to you. What would you do?"

"Your fancy words," he said, smiling. "I can't pretend they wouldn't give it to me. I was a good scout."

Six sighed.

"Why do you ask?"

Six chose her words carefully. She didn't want to tell Chalk she was working for the Legion yet. He would find out soon, it was unavoidable. But she wasn't ready.

"My employer. I've done great work for him. But he won't let me be a... full member."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm a woman."

Chalk stared at her. "What does that got to do with it?"

Six laughed then, really laughed. "That's my feeling on it, too."

"Well, Iss, you don't have to work for him, you know? The world is a big place, eh?"

Her laugh died off and her eyes once again found the fire. The world was a lot smaller now that she helped the Legion take over New Vegas.

"I think this rabbit is done."

Six moved to the other side of the fire and sat next to Chalk. They ate in silence and when she was finished she leaned her head against his shoulder and took comfort from his steadiness that she didn't deserve.

* * *

They exited the Northern Passage and there was still no sign of Vulpes. Six hadn't been expecting one, but the abandonment hurt more than she would have imagined. Another rejection by a man in red, another betrayal; she really shouldn't have been surprised. What was a raindrop in a storm, after all?

She refused to think about the night she learned those words.

"Wow, look at that! Is that where we are going?"

Chalk was in awe of the Vegas skyline. Six smiled before she remembered Caesar wanted it all torn down.

"No." At his crestfallen expression, she added, "Not yet, at least. I have to talk to my employer first."

They stopped at an abandoned house north of Vegas to have lunch. Six was antsy all through the meal, because the other reason she stopped here was to leave Chalk in a safe place while she delivered herself and Graham to Caesar. There was no way she was having him come along for that.

When she asked him to wait there for a few nights, he replied, "Sure, okay. I'll wait behind. Not like I'm not used to that," and she almost screamed in frustration. Once she wasn't carrying around a sack full of decapitated head, hopefully the guilt would fade. It had to.

She found some pre-war clothing in the bedroom and gave it to him to wear. "If I don't come back in three days," she said, without meeting his eyes, "You should probably take off without me. Just... if anyone in red armor bothers you, just listen to them, okay?"

"Men in red? Does that mean Caesar's Legion is in the area?"

She couldn't avoid that question. "Yes."

"Joshua says-"

"Joshua was right the first time!" she shouted. She should have prepared him better. She should have prepared herself better, but she still didn't know what to say. All she knew was that Graham's head was in her bag.

And she was so close to getting rid of it.

"You mean, you support the Legion?" Chalk asked, and to his credit he didn't sound angry or betrayed, only curious.

She wanted to say yes. She wanted to say no. What she really wanted to say was, so did Joshua and the only reason he stopped was because he got fired and he was bitter. But she didn't have the time or energy for it.

"Just, do what they say, alright? They probably need good scouts like you."

"I didn't leave one tribe to join another, Iss."

She put her face in her hands. "Fine, then, if I don't come back, just go... just go... wherever. The world is your oyster."

"What is an oyster?"

She pulled her hair in frustration.

"Stahp," he said quietly, and put his hands on hers. She released her grip on her hair and he brought her hands down. He didn't let go. She didn't look at him. "If you don't want to go see this employer of yours, don't go."

"It's not that simple, Chalk," she said. "I have to go."

"Even if you might not come back?"

"I'm sure I'll be able to come back. I just said that, just in case. I have to go, but I do feel... protective. Of you."

She glanced up and Chalk was smiling. "Of course. You took me from my home and now I am your responsibility. Burden of the civilized woman, eh? But I was going to leave sometime anyway. You guided me here, and that's all you promised to do. It is over now. And I am not so helpless, you know."

Six rather thought she wanted to kiss him at that moment, or maybe just hold him close, but she saw the bag sitting by the door and she could imagine, through the bandages, through the datura and the thick leather of the sack itself, that Graham's pale blue eyes were watching.

She pulled her hands from Chalk's and quickly snatched up the bag. "I'll be back," she said, with the best smile she could fake, and left.

* * *

Six had just passed through Freeside's northern gate when Vulpes appeared at her shoulder. She managed to control her startled yelp and continued toward the Strip.

He fell in step beside her. "Have a nice time playing with the savages? You must have, you brought one home with you."

Figures he would know about that already. "And Graham's head. That was just the whole point."

"And as long as you have the delivery I shouldn't begrudge you a souvenir?"

"I don't have to explain myself to you. I'm going to throw this head at Caesar's feet to see the look on his face. And then I'm leaving."

"Why leave now that you've completed the task?" he asked.

Six scoffed. "Yeah, I completed it. But we both know it's not going to make a difference. And what the hell do you care; you left me in Zion. You thought I was going to fail, too."

"I knew you did not fail. I did not leave Zion until you did. When I saw your travelling partner, I simply thought that three would be a crowd."

Six stopped walking and looked at him. "What?"

Vulpes raised an eyebrow at her. "You seemed quite comfortable with him." Six shook her head disbelievingly and continued walking. "And indeed, it seems you enjoyed that trip so much you are eager to get back to him."

"It's not like it matters, Vulpes. Caesar is never going to change his mind. I said I would help you, but then you disappeared. So I made new plans."

"You have. In the span of a week and a half you have decided to throw away everything you have worked for for the sake of a man. How quaint. Tell me, are you in love?"

"No, I'm not. Forgive me if I like spending time with someone who actually likes me for a change."

"He doesn't like you. He doesn't even know you, does he? That's why you didn't bring him with you on this little delivery."

"Do you have a point? Or is this just more of that 'irritating people' thing you like to do?"

"In fact, I do. If you are basing your decisions off what you think Caesar will say, perhaps you should listen to him first. You have killed the Malpais Legate, after all. Caesar may not be as unrewarding as you think."

"Right, well, I wasn't about to walk in there and tell him to fuck off. If he has something to say, I'm sure he'll say it. But I'm not holding my breath."

"I just hope your mind isn't so clouded by your _other plans_ that you fail to recognize success when you hear it."

"Either he'll say, 'Courier! What are you doing here? I never expected you to come back. Praetorians, at arms!' or he'll say, 'Courier! I can't believe you killed him while all my Frumentarii have failed! Please, take your rightful spot as the best warrior in the Legion."

Vulpes snorted inelegantly. "Perhaps, but it _might _fall somewhere in the middle. Which would still be success. You remember that there is more than your pride at stake?"

"You remember that I don't care anymore?"

She saw Vulpes giving her an incredulous look out of the corner of her eye.

"Okay, fine, I do. A little. You just irritate me so greatly I have to argue."

Vulpes ignored that. "We are close to a tipping point. Soon you could be training other women to wield the machete. I trust that you won't disregard that in favor of wandering around the wasteland with your new boyfriend."

"If you're so worried about it, why did you fuck off and let us travel together? You could have been with me the whole way home, drilling this stuff in my head like you used to do."

Vulpes smirked at her. "Oh, did you miss me?"

Six rolled her eyes.

"I didn't think so. Your nights were much warmer than mine."

"Lost your sleeping pouch?"

"Nothing is as nice as sharing body heat, you must agree."

They reached the Strip and Six was saved from having to respond. All the tents were gone. A Centurion came up to Vulpes and directed him to the Lucky 38. Apparently Caesar had changed his mind about the old world sin.

They took the elevator to the penthouse.


	10. Well, Fuck Me

The smell of rotting flesh and sickly sweet datura quickly filled the area.

"Well, fuck me."

If Caesar had looked surprised at their arrival, he was shocked now. Six savored the sight. Caesar on his throne, surrounded by Praetorians, back to the great vista of New Vegas and the Mojave, quite possibly the most powerful man in thousands of miles. She found success when he thought it impossible. The old pride at pleasing him started to creep back in. The old hope. She tried to quash it. The look on his face was all she needed. Now he would reject her again, and she could leave with the knowledge she had done all she could.

"I truly did not expect this, Courier. How did you manage it? I assume Vulpes had something to do with it."

"You instructed me to refrain, my Lord-"

"He wasn't even there! I did this, _I_ did!" Caesar raised an eyebrow, and Six nearly lost it. She managed to keep her voice below a shout, but only just. "I assassinated Kimball. I blew up the NCR monorail. I wiped out Forlorn Hope without help and destroyed the Brotherhood of Steel. I killed House and that's the _only reason you are sitting in this room right now! _Why would you think I couldn't handle one burned Legate?"

Silence fell, and as it lengthened Six worked hard to maintain eye contact with Caesar. It was pointless to argue with him, but she couldn't help it. Just like with Vulpes; Caesar got under her skin and she was livid before she knew what was happening. And at this point, she might as well keep being angry. To back down now would be weakness.

"Alright," Caesar said quietly. "Tell me, how did you do it, Courier?"

He didn't look like he believed her, but there was something in the tone of his voice that said he might.

"I slit his throat with a machete."

"And you came out uninjured?"

"Well, it's not like I offered him arena rules."

He laughed and leaned back in his chair. "You have done many great things for the Legion, Courier. I have never tried to hide or deny that. But perhaps I have been underestimating your usefulness. I have lost many Frumentarii to the Utah, but you came out unscathed. I expect that Graham never imagined a woman to be working for me, and that was instrumental to your success."

"Among other things," she muttered.

"Of course. If I had sent any other woman on this task, they would have failed, element of surprise or not. It is only you who continues to perform above my expectations."

Six rather doubted that. She had met many women she was confident would have been able to kill Graham just as easily. But it didn't seem like an issue to press just then.

"It makes me curious, Courier. Something I have long wondered. Did those bullets to the brain cut that weakness out of you, or were you always an exceptional specimen?"

The Praetorians stopped scanning the room and looked at her then, and she saw Vulpes turn and glance at her from the corner of her eye. But she had no answer for them.

"I don't know, my Lord. I have no memory of before."

"Yes, Arcade told me. Amnesia, he called it. But you remembered how to speak, and you couldn't have learned such skill with guns in a year. But Arcade says that your other memories are unlikely to return at this point. A shame. Maladies of the brain hold a special interest to me now."

A fascinating case study, Six was sure; Arcade certainly enjoyed theorizing about it. Apparently he found someone more willing than her to talk with him.

"Forgive me, Lord, but I am slightly more concerned with the future than the past."

He laughed. "You have proved your point, Courier. There is no reason for you to be kept inside washing clothes. There are a few things I think could do with your special touch. Come back tomorrow and I'll see what I have for you." He waved his hand at her, a dismissal. "Vulpes, stay."

"So, I'm a Frumentarius now?"

For the second time, Caesar was surprised, but he quickly recovered, and smiled wanly. "I should have foreseen that. Of course you want the title. And if I told you to think of yourself as one, that wouldn't be enough for you, would it?"

Vulpes gave her a hard look, but she ignored him. "No."

"Frumentarii report to Vulpes, not to me. Are you tiring of my company, Courier?"

There was a time, not long ago, when Six would have done or said anything to remain in Caesar's company. And there was still a small part of her that twinged at the words. But her infatuation had steadily declined since the battle at Hoover Dam, and her answer came easily. As would his, she supposed.

"I don't wish for special treatment, Lord Caesar. If it would please you and Vulpes, I would rather be a true Frumentarius than a false one."

Six could hear a clock ticking. She was very aware of the feel of the carpet beneath her boots, the color of the perfectly preserved sofa, the grain of the wood in the table between her and Caesar, the red of the Praetorians' garments. This was it. All his pretty words before meant nothing if he did not grant her this. And she couldn't focus on him in the silence. Instead she looked out of the window at the Mojave and waited.

"All right."

Her mind ground to a halt. She could hear him talking about accommodations, armor, pay rates, and she understood the words, but she couldn't concentrate on them. It worked. It actually worked. A small voice in the back of her mind said sadly that of course it worked this time; she didn't want it anymore.

* * *

After leaving the Lucky 38 Six walked slowly back to the Casa Madrid, watching her feet and her mind reeling too quickly to grasp the separate thoughts. It wasn't until an hour later, when Vulpes returned to the room to find her sitting on the bed, that she realized she hadn't meant to come back here. Chalk was waiting for her.

But that was before.

Vulpes smiled when he saw her. A real smile. It looked odd on him. "What success today!" He began to remove his outer armor and drop it on the ground. "I thought you were going to doom us when you refused an honorary title. Oh, I wanted to slap you. But this - I didn't let myself think that - oh, it was a gamble, but you won it."

He stood in front of her and grabbed her hands. She felt like she couldn't process his excitement; after the shock of the day and the unnerving strangeness of his open, demonstrative happiness she had nothing to say. She didn't even know the correct facial expression. He noticed her flat affect and his face fell into suspicion. The grip on her hands tightened minutely.

"You didn't want this, did you? You wanted to go back to your savage boyfriend secure in your failure." She didn't respond. He dropped her hands and walked to the window. "Oh, but maybe you are weak after all. You lost all your determination, your strength of mind, over an ignorant boy. And if it could be lost, perhaps you never had it at all."

She felt her anger rising, was about to stand, to shout, but suddenly she was exhausted. "Don't try to bait me, Vulpes, I'm not in the mood."

Maybe that was all he was trying to do, because he came and sat next to her on the bed. He looked as tired as she felt.

"What do you want?" he asked.

"I don't know," she answered.

"Tomorrow you will be fitted for armor. You can walk the streets of New Vegas in red." He paused. "Do you want that?"

"It means I have to give up-" Vulpes put a hand on her shoulder, and she stopped.

"Do you want that?" he asked again.

Six hesitated. "Yes."

"Good. Then you know what to do until tomorrow. Then you will make the next decision."

"I could decide to leave now. Chalk is waiting for me."

"And how long did you tell him to wait?"

She smiled slightly despite herself. "How did you know I gave him a time limit?"

"It's what you would do."

She rolled her eyes. "Three days."

"Then you have three days to make that decision. You might as well wear the armor for one of them."

She laid down on the bed, swinging her legs around Vulpes and rolling over to the far side. There was no bedroll in the room anymore, and it wasn't like they were strangers at sleeping near each other. She thought she would feel guilt as he settled next to her, and maybe there was a bit, but mostly she felt relieved. She had time.

When Vulpes' hand came hours later, seemingly unconsciously, to rest on her arm, she left it there.

* * *

Vulpes snatched the armorer's wrist and snarled at him. "Watch your hands or I'll cut them off."

"I have to get a feel for the curve, sir," he didn't quite leer at her, but it was close, "I've never made a breastplate like this before."

Vulpes eyed him, picking up a newly forged machete and fingering it. "Do what you must," he said simply.

The rest of the fitting passed with only minor groping, and as the metal cooled Vulpes took her to some scribes who were in charge of pay rates. It was incredibly exciting and incredibly dull at the same time.

They returned to pick up the armor, and Vulpes helped her put it on.

"It takes repetition to don and doff the armor quickly. The laces twist easily and the metal can stab into the skin if it's crooked."

When fully dressed, Six asked Vulpes to leave her. He seemed to understand she wanted to do this alone.

* * *

She returned to the room a few hours later.

"Was it everything you dreamed it would be?" he asked with a smirk.

She smiled at him. She was in a good mood. "Well, I dreamed I would be a Praetorian. No offence." Vulpes scoffed. "I got a lot of strange looks, but nothing more than that. Everyone I talked to was respectful. I mean, you could tell that some of them didn't mean it, but they still were."

"I should hope so. I announced last night that you were a fully fledged Frumentarius and anyone who had something to say about it was free to speak their mind from the top of a cross."

Six just smiled again. She supposed an order from a man was probably necessary for the soldiers to take her seriously right now. But it was progress. She had armor. She was getting paid. She was Legion.

Vulpes touched her waist, and she jumped back. "Did you want to keep it on?" He cocked his head to the side. "I will admit, you look very fetching in it and if you wanted to celebrate the day with some role-play I could see my way to agreeing."

"It wouldn't be role-playing; I _am_ a Frumentarius. Unless you're suggesting you want to play the role of the dissolute whore this time."

Vulpes looked considering. Six threw a pillow at him.

She began untying the laces that held the breastplate and the backplate together.

"If you untie them completely it will be very time consuming to put it back together. Don't you remember how I would take it off?"

"I wasn't watching you undress, you know."

He chuckled and reached for her waist again. Six sighed and let his quick fingers loosen the ties. "Your loss," he said quietly.

"Is it?" she whispered.

"I suppose this way you get me to put my hands on you."

"Shut up. Anyway, all I have to do to get you to put your hands on me is to stop saying no."

He smirked. "You think that word is an impediment to me? Perhaps the answer is that I don't want to put my hands on you."

"He says, moments after putting his hands on me."

"And I didn't hear you say no."

"This is a bit different than-"

"Arms up."

She lifted her arms and he pulled the armor over her head. With only the red fabric she felt surprisingly cold and exposed. When he turned to set down the armor she quickly walked to the bed and got under the blanket. He joined her after removing his own armor.

"You're shivering."

"Tomorrow," she said. "Tomorrow I have to make more decisions."

"Yes," he answered.

She shuddered again, and he covered her arm with his own. It was warm. She wanted to burrow into the warmth, wrap him around her to ward off the morning. But that didn't make sense. The morning would come regardless.

And, she thought, it would probably send mixed signals to start cuddling. Best not.

* * *

She opted for regular clothing the next morning. No need to strap herself into Legion clothes if she decided to go back to Chalk. She told Vulpes she would be back in an hour and went to find Arcade. She didn't pretend to hope he would be happy to see her. But, perhaps selfishly, she wanted to talk to him before making her decision.

And also, in case this was the last time she saw him, she wanted to apologize. Perhaps that was also selfish. She doubted it would mean much to him.

She found him sitting in the clinic, reading a text. She smiled sadly before entering.

"I'm back, and I don't even have anything for you to fix," she said.

Arcade looked up. His face was blank. "Congratulations. On that, and on becoming a Frumentarius. Mission successful, eh?"

She sat next to him. "Sure."

"You don't sound very thrilled." He folded over a page and closed his book. "Having second thoughts? Finally?"

"You could say that."

"A bit late, now."

Six shrugged. "I could go. They wouldn't find me. Since Vulpes is in charge of the Frumentarii they wouldn't even be looking."

"That must be so nice for you," he said flatly.

She said nothing. It was a terrible idea to come here. She should give her apology and leave immediately.

"Though I find it difficult to imagine what would possibly convince you to leave after you achieved what you wanted."

"I'm sorry, Arcade, I shouldn't have come here. I know you don't like seeing me, and you have every right. I don't deserve to be able to talk to you."

He paused for a moment. "Well, it's not so bad." He leaned toward her and whispered, "There aren't a whole lot of people to talk to around here."

"I don't understand you, Arcade. You should hate me."

"Oh, I do hate you, don't worry. But honestly. There is no one to talk to. I kind of want to go back to being Caesar's private doctor. Aside from not being enslaved, obviously."

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I don't know what I should've done, but I shouldn't have done that. It's unforgivable."

"Jeeze, what happened to you in the last two months? It's a whole new Six sitting next to me."

"I don't know. I lost faith in the Legion, after which they promoted me. It feels a lot like getting shot twice in the head."

"Well, you would know." Six smiled thinly. "Where would you go if you left?"

She shrugged. "South, probably."

"Just wandering?" she nodded. "Alone?" She bit her lip.

"There is someone who would travel with me. A tribal I met in the Utah. I don't know. I haven't really done well by him, either."

"Color me shocked."

"I'm sorry, I should go-"

"No, you don't get to make that decision. If you really are sorry, you'll sit here and listen to every barb I fling at you, and continue to talk to me. Because that's your punishment. It's not very dramatic, but my options are limited here."

She looked at him. His face was serious, with one eyebrow raised. She looked at the ground. She smiled a bit.

"So tell me, are you in love with this guy or something?" he asked.

Six laughed. "No. I am not. I just like him. And I feel responsible for him. I've done things that if he knew what they were he would hate me."

"What did you do?"

"I killed his mentor and then pretended he was still alive so I could convince him to travel with me."

"Ah. That's pretty shitty of you."

"I don't think his mentor was all that good of a guy, to be honest. And it was the mission. He had to die."

"Alright, Six. You clearly came here for advice. And I'm going to give it to you. This guy is probably better off without you." Six swallowed thickly. "You look like you know that already, so good. At least you're not completely stupid. If you have to lie to him and keep secrets to hang on to him, just to keep him from hating you, that's actually a bad thing. He doesn't deserve that. Now, I don't know everything about the situation, so I don't know if you should tell him the truth or not. But at the least you shouldn't go on travelling with him and keeping that secret. That's pretty horrific, Six."

She tried valiantly not to cry. It almost worked.

"Secondly, and I'm loathe to say more importantly because I don't want to do downplay the terrible things you're lying about, but still. You broke the Mojave, Six. You destroyed New Vegas and gave it to the Legion. They have it, now. But you've actually become a member of a society that oppresses and enslaves women. You can't run away from that. I think you have a responsibility to use it and try to continue the progress. In twenty years time, fifty, the Legion may be in control thousands of people, and they might look back at their history books and say, 'Can you believe we used to think women were worthless?' And if you get them to admit they were wrong about women, then eventually they might rethink their stance homosexuality, or slavery in general, or any of their terrible shit. You owe it to this world you helped create to try and make it the best version of itself possible."

"God, Arcade." She wiped her face on her sleeve. "You're so good. Why do you even bother talking to me?"

"Because you're a history-maker, Six. Whether you like it or not. And I shudder to think what the world could become if I let you go blundering around haphazardly."

"Arcade Gannon, saving the world one nudge at a time."

"Also, if you get to be big and powerful enough, you'll be able to arrange my freedom."

"My third wish is that the genie be set free?"

"No one wishes the genie free."

"Well, I already won New Vegas and became a member of the Legion. So if I ever get that third wish, I will."

* * *

That afternoon, Vulpes took her on a long, meandering walk through the buildings and fields outside Vegas. It was quiet and calming after her morning with Arcade. But it couldn't last much longer. The sun was a few hours from setting and she had to decide what to do about Chalk. Before this morning, she thought that even if she decided to stay Legion, she should go say goodbye to him. That it was the right thing to do. But after talking to Arcade she wondered if it would be better for him if he never saw her again. A goodbye would be a lie like the rest of their relationship.

Or, she could just travel with him and keep lying. It might be horrific, but if he never found out, it would never hurt him.

"It's time for another decision," Vulpes said.

"I suppose it is at that."

"If you chose to stay, I have a mission for you. You might be interested in it."

"What is it?"

Vulpes considered his words. "There is only so much I can tell you. If you decide to leave it isn't information you need to have."

"Well, what can you tell me?"

"Have you heard the Divide?"

She sucked in a quiet breath, shocked. "Yes."

"What have you heard?"

"Not much," she answered truthfully.

Vulpes paused. "And yet you were surprised when I mentioned it. Perhaps you've heard more than a little."

"I heard..." She swallowed. "I heard that there might be someone there. Someone who might know me somehow. From before." She shrugged, and Vulpes continued. "There are a lot of maybes. But I had thought about checking it out, when I got the time."

Vulpes smiled, but it looked more like a grimace. "Well," he said, "now you have the time."

"What would you want me to do there?"

"No. That's it. Decision time."

"Even if I leave, I can still go to the Divide."

"Indeed you could, but without more information than you have now my interests will be protected."

They came to a low, broken wall and Six sat down on it. Vulpes sat next to her. They didn't speak for a while. Six knew what her answer was. She knew it from the moment Caesar made her Frumentarii.

"I'm going to stay."

Vulpes wasted no time. "There is a man there, in the Divide, one who has worked as a Frumentarii for many years. I need a message brought to him."

Six thought about this.

"He worked as a courier, didn't he?"

"Yes."

"Ulysses."

He eyed her. "I suppose you heard that name from the Malpais Legate."

"Yes. He worked for you?"

"Yes. For a short while, anyway."

"So... If he did know me before, I mean, there's a possibility that you know that he knew me. Did you know?"

"I was promoted only shortly before the last time I saw him. He did not report to me for very long."

"Wait, he deserted?"

"He is on an extended mission. We do not keep in regular contact."

"Oh." Six paused. "You didn't answer my question, though."

He turned and looked at her.

"I had heard of you, yes."

Instant, hot fury coursed through her. She stood up and faced him. "And you never told me? Why not? What did you think gave you the right to keep that from me?" she shouted.

"You never gave me the impression that you cared about your past."

"Maybe because I never knew anything about it! We don't sit down every night and hold hands and talk about our fucking feelings! That's the worst excuse I ever heard."

"There are reasons I didn't tell you. There are reasons I never mention his existence to anyone. Most think he is dead or else travelling far, far away from here. If I told you I had heard of you, you would have wanted more information. You would have wanted to go find him. You weren't ready." Six said nothing, only fumed. "Besides, I heard of your existence. I do not believe he ever met you, either, simply heard of you. It was just a story of a rumor."

"At least I would have known that! That I was somebody that people told stories and rumors about! What were the stories? You don't just 'hear of someone's existence'. No one says, 'Hey, I heard about this girl that's alive somewhere,' and that's the end of it. What did he tell you?"

"You were a courier. You often worked in a place called the Divide. It was annexed by the NCR, and I sent Frumentarii, and later legionaries, to take control. That is how he learned of you."

Her eyes narrowed. "There's more than that. Your agent wouldn't put in a report that a courier worked there on occasion. That's not report-worthy."

Vulpes smiled. "It's not, is it? Your reports better include things like that. But you are correct that there is a bit more. It i_seemed/i_ as though you might have been working for the NCR. Although as a courier it's possible you had no scruples whom you worked for, or perhaps the NCR tricked you in some way."

"Into doing what?"

He eyed her for a moment. "You blew it up."


	11. Chin Dee

A/N: Helpful reminder of tribal language:

ahk iss - friend  
shaiss! - shit (or any profane explative, I imagine)  
varoom - why  
tag - day  
chin dee - devil  
hah go - come here  
vass - what  
geh bits ah - get away

The rest should be clear in context.

* * *

"It _seemed_ as though you might have been working for the NCR. Although as a courier it's possible you had no scruples whom you worked for, or perhaps the NCR tricked you in some way."

"Into doing what?"

He eyed her for a moment. "You blew it up."

Six laughed.

Vulpes didn't.

"What do you mean, I blew it up? The NCR doesn't really have the ability to blow up towns, anyway. I mean, Boulder City, but that place was abandoned and they just filled it with mines. I don't know anything about explosives."

"There were Pre War missiles stored there. You activated them."

"How? How could I do that?"

"I'm not entirely sure. It seems one of your packages had a code for them."

Six considered this. "That would strongly imply that I didn't know what was in the package."

"Perhaps," Vulpes agreed. "But then, it didn't activate until you were far enough away to escape unscathed."

"I can't believe this. If you thought I was NCR you wouldn't keep that a secret. You wouldn't..." Six floundered. "You wouldn't do any of the things you're doing!"

"You have very little idea of why I do the things I do."

That was certainly true. She might know things about Vulpes that other people did not, but she didn't know everything. Not even close.

"As it is, I do not believe you were working for the NCR. And even if you were, you had lost all your memories. I watched you closely. An NCR agent would not blow up their monorail, or assassinate their president, or fight their soldiers and officers at the Battle of Hoover Dam. I am sure of your loyalty, even if at times you are not."

"Your confidence in my Legion loyalty never wavers, huh?"

"Your loyalty is not to the Legion; it is to your place in it. I never doubt that."

She didn't respond. It seemed pretty accurate. Instead, she thought about accidentally blowing up a town. Arcade was right, it seemed she blundered her way into more history than she was prepared for. She definitely didn't do it on purpose. She couldn't even imagine doing such a thing for the NCR. But... she could imagine doing it for the Legion. And if she would do it at all, who's to say she was never on the other side? She couldn't, not really.

But she couldn't remember it, couldn't _really_ imagine it, and there wasn't much she could do about it now.

"Alright, so. I guess that brings my total of settlements I've razed personally to three."

"Four."

"What?"

"You're forgetting Helios One."

"I am. Wait, how did you - oh, never mind."

"It is about a five day journey to get to the Divide from here-"

"Is it really five days, or five days at your pace which means it's about an hour away?"

Vulpes looked momentarily nonplussed. "Oh," he said. "Yes, I travelled slowly through the Northern Passage, but there was a very real possibility that you would die facing the Malpais Legate. It was not something I wished to hasten to."

"I think that's the sweetest thing you've said to me."

"All my hopes and dreams are riding on you."

"All of them? That's a lot of pressure."

"Most of the big ones, yes. But as I was saying, five days, depending on the conditions of the roads once you reach it. I have not been there, but as it's been bombed you can imagine it won't be the easiest of terrain. You will find the road west of Primm, near a wrecked caravan. I trust you are familiar with that area, at least."

"Yeah."

"So I will expect you back between two to three weeks." He rose, and took an envelope from an inside pocket.

Six stood as well. "That seems to be erring on the side of me getting a broken leg."

"Anything can arise when you are on mission," he said simply and held out the message.

She took it uncertainly. "I'll just go, then, shall I?"

"Ave, true to Caesar."

At that, he left. Six fingered the letter. It was tightly sealed. She folded it and put it in her pocket, then went back to the Casa to prepare for travel.

* * *

Hard as she tried, she could not help but be discomforted by Vulpes' abrupt departure. She couldn't say exactly why it put her on edge, but she had the impression he knew more than he was letting on. Well, of course, he always did, and this time he had said it outright. It wasn't anything new that Vulpes was keeping secrets. But still she was uneasy. It was separate from her uneasiness at his knowledge of her past, and that in turn was separate from her uneasiness at going to see the destruction of the Divide in person.

She walked north.

Toward Chalk.

Which was a completely different uneasiness.

She had decided that, if she wasn't going to travel with him, and if she was going to keep the secret of killing Graham, then the right thing to do would be to say goodbye. As it stood, he _did_ like her. And if she left without a word it would bother him to think she might be dead, or had forgotten him. Six couldn't figure out if it was, at the heart, a selfish desire or not, but either way it seemed kinder to him.

She practiced the lies she would tell him as she walked.

He was laying on a blanket in the sun outside the front of house when she approached.

"Hoi, ahk iss!" He sat up quickly. "I was worried for you. I am glad you are back safe."

"What are you doing out here?" she asked.

"It is nice to lay in the sun. It hasn't rained once since I've been here, it's crazy!"

Six smiled. She would miss him. "It never rains."

"So, what now? Are we rushing off somewhere or do you want to lay in the sun with me?"

Six laughed and shook her head. "Only you would be so happy about the sun. Give it a couple of weeks with no rain or clouds and you won't like it so much."

She did sit on the blanket, though, and rested her head against his shoulder. It would be the last time she could.

So, she thought. Definitely selfish at heart, then.

"I'm sorry, Chalk. I have to go. My employer gave me another job."

"A courier job?"

Six laughed. It was. She might be a Frumentarius, but she was always a Courier.

"Yes."

"I don't have any plans right now." She could hear the tease in his tone. "I could come with you."

"You can't. I have to deliver it alone."

"Okay, you have to deliver it alone, but do you have to walk alone, too?"

It would be so easy. Just say the words, and he would be at her side. And then she wouldn't have to face the Divide alone. Vulpes wouldn't care if she walked there with him, not really, not as long as she left him well before meeting Ulysses. A voice in her head told her that if she took him all the way to the Divide there was no way to guarantee that. She ignored it. The voice then told her that Arcade would be incredibly disappointed in her. That gave her pause.

It wouldn't be the first time she disappointed Arcade, though. Not that that made it better, really. It probably made it worse.

It was a long time before she said, "No, I suppose I don't."

* * *

They took the Long 15 south. It was safer after a month of Legion control, though Six allowed that she had killed most of the deathclaws in the area. It was an uneventful journey. They talked companionably, Chalk asking questions and Six answering them the best she could. Night would fall soon. They stopped at the Goodsprings Source to refill their water bottles. She looked north, but of course she couldn't actually see Goodsprings from there. She thought of that town where her life began, and what she had made of it. She turned south and they continued on to Primm.

Six hadn't been to any of the towns in the area since the Legion had taken over. Luckily, Nash didn't recognize her from the money Caesar had made. She wondered if the one in her pocket was the only one in existence. He did recognize her as the courier with the weird job who freed Deputy Beagle, and welcomed her into the Vikki and Vance.

"Yeah, once it was clear that no one was going step up and be sheriff, Beagle turned out to be better than anyone thought, including himself. He did offer a speedy surrender to the Legion, but perhaps that was for the best. I heard other areas got it pretty bad after the NCR left."

"So you're alright with the Legion being in charge of you?"

"I don't suppose they really take charge much. Seems they just wanted the NCR out. That might change, of course, but so far none of them have tried to mess with us since we surrendered. Which means," he said, smiling, "that we still have spirits here. Have a whiskey on the house. We don't forget them who help us."

"Oh, no, you're too kind-"

"Nonsense. Come over to the back. Ruby's at home with Andy, but come say hi to Beagle with me. And one for your friend, too, on the house."

Chalk looked nervous, but intrigued. "You mean al-ko-hal? I've never drank it before. I heard it's like datura tea."

Nash raised an eyebrow at Six. "Not from around here, is he?"

"He had a sheltered childhood. And Chalk, if what I heard about datura tea is true, you'd need a lot of alcohol to get that effect."

He looked relieved. "Okay. I think I want to try it."

Vulpes told her once that Frumentarii drank alcohol on occasion to help blend in. She supposed that could be the case here. And after finding out she had blown up an entire town, she felt like she deserved a drink. Or maybe a bullet to the head. But then, if she got a bullet to the head every time she massacred an area even she didn't like those odds.

"Yeah, on second thought, I think I could use a drink."

* * *

She was careful not to drink too much. At least, she thought she was. Her tolerance for booze seemed to have gone down.

"I think I might have been an alcoholic before I got shot in the head," she told Chalk.

He frowned. "Vass es an al-ko-hal-ik?"

"It's a person who drinks. A lot, they drink every day."

Chalk nodded sagely, then frowned again. "Shaiss! All tags, drinking this chin dee? Varoom?"

"What are you even saying?" She leaned heavily on the bar. "Speak English, Chalk."

"But when did you get shot in the head, Iss?" He looked so concerned. It was adorable. She decided to lean heavily on him instead.

"On my birthday," she said, and started giggling.

"Is it funny to be shot on a birthtag?"

"No," she said. "Not really."

He frowned, and Six started giggling again. "Don't be so serious, Chalk. Serious is for tomorrow."

"What happens tomorrow?"

Six laughed a bit more and said, "Tomorrow we move on. Tomorrow we Divide."

"You tell me speak English. But you make no sense most of time."

Six had the thought that if he did understand her, even a little, he might kill her on principle. She sat up straight. And for a moment it was such a ghastly thought, so utterly horrifying, that she couldn't help but laugh.

"I think," Chalk said, and stood up so suddenly that he toppled over. "Ow wah."

Six snorted with amusement and got up to help him.

"That it is time," he continued once upright, "to stahp drinking your civi-civilized chin dee tea."

"You're probably right," Six said.

She located Johnson Nash who didn't comp a room for them, but he did offer it at a reduced price.

They made their way up the stairs and into the room with a moderate amount of difficulty. There was only the one bed. But she had slept next to Chalk before.

She collapsed on the bed and he followed suit quickly.

They laid there for a moment, just breathing. He reached out for her. "Hah go," he said, and she found herself wrapped in warm arms.

"Ahk iss. Iss Six. Sixiss."

She giggled. "What, Chalk?"

"I want to tell you. I want to say. Iss, can I kiss you?"

Six was quiet for a moment. "You're going to have a hang-over tomorrow," she told him.

His fingers brushed her face lightly. "That is for tomorrow, then."

He kissed her slowly. He gave her plenty of time to pull away. But she didn't.


	12. Lost in the Wasteland

A/N: Helpful reminder of tribal language:  
ahk iss - friend  
shaiss! - shit (or any profane explative, I imagine)  
varoom - why  
tag - day  
chin dee - devil  
hah go - come here  
vass - what  
geh bits ah - get away

* * *

The morning dawned painfully. The sun was entirely too bright, and her head was pounding. She imagined this wasn't what Vulpes had in mind when he said Frumentarii could drink to blend in. And the bastard probably knew about this already.

Chalk's arm was around her shoulders.

Her naked shoulders.

She slept with Chalk.

She _slept with_ _Chalk._

She was, quite possibly, the most awful person in the entire Mojave.

She was incredibly happy, however, that she woke up before Chalk did. It gave her time to process, and to plan. It was tomorrow, and her problems were terribly real.

The only thing to do was tell him the truth about Graham and run away as he tried to beat her to death with his war club.

Or was that only her selfish desire to rid herself of guilt, when all that would accomplish would be taking Chalk's happiness away?

Of course, that could be the selfish part of her trying to think of an excuse not to come clean.

The correct answer would have been telling him he couldn't come with her. Why didn't she listen to Arcade? She should always listen to Arcade. Arcade was vastly intelligent and his judgment should always take precedence over hers.

Chalk stretched, and Six panicked silently.

"Goot morning, Iss," he said sleepily.

She could just kill him.

She mentally berated herself and tried to get her thoughts in some kind of order. The headache wasn't helping.

"Morning, Chalk," was all she could manage. She gathered her strength and tried again. "I killed Joshua Graham."

She grimaced. Perhaps a bit too strong. There was a whole middle range between those two statements that she could aimed for. Or nothing at all. That was the correct answer. Even Arcade had been ambivalent about telling Chalk the truth. That had been a terrible idea. Why did she ever think this was a good idea-

"What?"

Six didn't answer and toyed with the idea that he really hadn't heard her. It was a nice idea.

"Why would you... I don't understand, is that really the truth?"

She toyed with the idea of playing it off as a bad joke. It was an appalling idea.

"Yes."

He pulled his arm away and stood up, backing into a corner as if to get as far away from her as physically possible. Six sat up in the bed and pulled her knees up, the blanket around her like a shield. She didn't look at him.

"Why? You - you - shaiss, neekt ni, neekt ma ahk iss, deh keel Joshua Graham? _Fair flick chin dee!_" She glanced up. His eyes were wide, and confused, and angry.

The correct answer was never taking him with her in the first place.

"Why would you do that?" he demanded.

"It was the job," she said quietly.

"Who would hire you to - Legion," he said flatly. She nodded. "You killed him. And lied to me for this whole time." She nodded. "Why would you do this? Why bring me with you? You asked me, I didn't ask you!"

"I... You wanted to see civilization. I thought it would, I mean-"

"No. No! You killed a good man for a terrible reason."

She thought about telling him he wasn't a very good man, the only benefit to which was that she actually thought that was true, but it would be pointless. Even if he did believe her, she had no desire to destroy his memory of Graham. Poor Chalk, always putting his faith in those who deserve his scorn.

"Why you tell me this now? After I, you, after we - last night! Was this some big joke to you? Some chin dee civilized game?"

"No! No. I... I have no defense," she told her knees, "it was awful and I'm awful, but it was never a game. I know I shouldn't have taken you with me. I can't explain why I did. I came up with so many excuses. I told myself you were too good, too smart to stay with those tribals. That the White Legs were probably going to win, and you might die. But they were just excuses. The only thing I know for sure is that I wanted you to be with me. I wanted to be around you. And I lied to you so I could make that happen."

Chalk sunk to the floor and put his head in his hands.

"Geh bits ah." He looked up at her. "Get away from me!"

* * *

Six stood in front of the canyon wreckage. The graffiti seemed to mock her. It was probably intended to.

She thought of Follows-Chalk, but there was nothing she could do for him now. He had the truth, for all the good it did anyone. All the decisions were made, and the only thing left to do was walk the lonesome road.

* * *

The robot hissed and buzzed and a voice came through it. It was low and dark, and sent shivers through her. "There's your signal... faint, but there. A woman in Caesar's service. Looks like the Bear has had its victory, after all."

Six didn't know what that meant, so she ignored it. "A woman in the Legion surprise you?"

"It's not Legion - the Legion I know, but they change, even in small ways as they march West, with every tribe they break. But yes... last I heard, you needed a weapon between your legs to carry one for Caesar."

He wanted to be funny, so could she. "Is that why you're not Legion anymore, then?" Six smirked.

"What do you m-" he broke off, chuckling. "I see the way of it. Have fight in you, at least. Save it for the road ahead."

"We're both couriers. How about a professional courtesy of meeting me halfway?"

"No courier would go to the Divide. But you will. And that's what sets us apart - we walk roads no other courier will walk. And for you; you'll want to see your home one last time, see what happened. You're curious. You walk, leave ruin in your path... you can't leave alone. Still, the choice is yours... what I offer, it's the last I offer you. I don't care if you walk the Divide. Turn, walk the Mojave, fight beneath the flags... but you'll wonder."

"I'm not here for a social call, Ulysses. I have a message from Vulpes."

There was silence for long moments. "What is it?" he finally responded.

"I'm not about to open my boss's mail."

The line crackled with static. "This is the reason you come back home? Just a courier with job to do. Go on, then. Walk the path. The Divide awaits your delivery."

The robot went silent; released from whatever Ulysses had done to it. Six stood for a long time looking at the path ahead. She didn't see the destruction of the Divide. That was beyond her memory. Instead she saw other regrets. She saw Arcade. Remembered telling him lies about why they were travelling to the Fort, and him believing every one. He was Dante, but she was no Virgil. She saw Chalk, who still didn't know she killed the musician who inspired him to travel. On a whim. At the time it seemed unimportant next to Graham, but not anymore. The bombs had ripped the ground apart and every compunction stabbed upwards, huge into the sky. Ruin in her wake. But for now, she was alone. There wasn't anyone for her to hurt, anyone to lie to. For now, she had a road.

* * *

The men were disgusting. Their skin was sloughing off and they attacked with the fierceness of ghouls and the distance shot of a well-trained sniper. Some of them were wearing copies of Lanius's mask, using copies of his sword. She wished she could believe as she shot them down that they were as mindless as a feral, but they were not. The radiation hadn't killed their minds. You need conscious thought to operate a sniper rifle or a stealth boy. She had done this to them? The thought was numb; it didn't impact her until she saw one out of the corner of her eye that looked like Chalk. After that, they all carried his face. They weren't him, though, and she gunned them down, NCR and Legion. All the same. What else could she do? Death claws and warheads and demons from the depths. A long, sleepless night.

Finally, she reached Ulysses' Temple.

The doors opened on a man. Tall, wild hair. Flag on his back. He turned. His eyes were dark over his mask.

"So you came, Frumentarius, Courier - whatever you are now. To carry out Vulpes' orders? Let's hope this delivery goes better than the last."

"Yeah, I guess I don't have the best luck with couriering. Should probably give it up. Settle down, maybe herd bighorners."

"I long to stop this disrespectful speech. With a blade across your throat. But what kind of world would this be if courier killed courier?" His voice sounded like a low chuckle at the end. She wondered if Vulpes knew how much this Frumentarius seemed to hate her. Her skin prickled.

She held out the envelope. He took it and put it in his pocket. "Vulpes owes me enough to let me have this meeting without his words hanging over our heads," he said. That was fine with her.

"Look, Ulysses. I don't know if you heard, but I got shot in the head two years ago. I don't remember anything from before that. But from what I've been told, I'm responsible for the destruction of this place. Is that true?"

"You doubt it?"

"You can't be sure it was me."

"No, I'm certain. What I hadn't known was that you still lived after the Divide." Six considered this. She was willing to shoulder the blame for the Divide. It seemed a spark on a fire to what she was already carrying. "And then you saw my name on the roster for the Platinum Chip. Did you know what would happen? That people wanted to steal it?"

"You get a feel sometimes, for packages. Courier instinct, I suppose. It must have failed you that day."

Six said nothing.

"You stopped using that name, though. People speak of the Courier. Courier Six. Jane Smith and Ashton and Hopeville are gone. Names you condemned to the dust."

Six had never heard that name spoken out loud. Not in her memory. "I didn't-" She felt strangely choked up. "I wasn't trying to condemn it. It didn't feel like it was mine. Nash - he said -" She swallowed. "_'Let Courier Six carry the package.'_ You damned me and christened me in the same sentence," she laughed quietly.

Ulysses looked thoughtful. "Courier Six... I was Courier Six. Like you - and not like you, in all the ways that matter. It seems to be my fate to see my life bastardized before my eyes. To cause it." He stared into the middle distance and was quiet. It was an intriguing statement, one Six thought she identified with easily, but she let it alone. It was not her business, and he clearly had no interest in commiserating with her. He continued,"I hoped the package would kill you that time. Like it should have done here. But you won't stay down, even when you deserve to. You survived as an empty shell, one born from death. Now you carry death wherever you go. Doesn't matter. Did before, too. But the Mojave knows it, now. Only you seem ignorant of the wreckage you leave behind."

"I think I have enough wreckage to be going on with."

He smile at her slightly. "I knew of you, your name. Your road, to and from the Divide, what that meant. We never spoke, knew you through your actions. Knew you'd walked the West as I'd walked the East. I would never have discovered the Divide without you. I know more of your life than anyone alive. More than you. Means I decide how much you should carry."

"Tell me, then."

He gave her a strange look, like he was measuring her. He probably was. "You say your name felt wrong to you. Perhaps it should have. You were not born with that name. You came from a tribe in the southwest. A violent people, from the stories I heard. To others. To themselves. Like the Khans, with more rage. More savagery. As a teenager, you faked your death during a raid on a caravan. Appealed to the sympathy of the survivors. Perhaps you despised that way of life, even though you had been raised to it. That's what you told the merchants who took you in. And I believed it, too. Though now... perhaps the life expectancy in your tribe was too low for you.

"But I believed, and I walked your roads. Circle Junction. Reno to Vault City. Word of you at Fort Aradesh, Fort Abandon. Even further West than that. Brahmin drives on the Big Circle. The Long 15. The Divide. A small community that you breathed life into. You saw something here. Promise. You made me see it, too. You must have cared. It was not a road walked lightly. Others were easier. Paid better. But you returned, time after time. I saw the grace of the Legion in you - make order from chaos. To rise above savage tendencies. But more than that. I saw a new way of living in the Divide. Beginnings. Different ways of thinking. It meant more to me than the Legion, the chance for a new nation. But then, you destroyed it. At first I thought you didn't mean to. No reason to sacrifice your life to destroy this place. When I found you were alive, well. Answer was clear. West may have civilized you, in some ways, but that bloodthirst never left, did it?"

Six wanted to refute him. That didn't feel right. She wanted to yell that it had left, she had left it far behind, but she couldn't find the words. The reasons why it was wrong. She was sure that there were reasons, there must be to feel this strongly. It must be her memory coming back. But not enough. She couldn't grasp it, and the feeling with no logic faded to an idea that wasn't worth vocalizing.

"Is there more? Can you tell me more? I think you are helping my memory come back, but I'm not sure."

"Why would I help you with anything?"

She looked him in the eye. "Because it is also what you want. If I remember, I can feel the guilt you want me to feel."

Ulysses shook his head. "You had your memory of the Divide for a long while before you carried the Chip. If you felt guilt at all, you would not have carried it."

"I didn't know what it was!"

"Are you certain? All these roads, you walked. These packages you carried. Think it wasn't your choice? Of course it was your choice. You could have stayed in the Mojave. But you chose to come, couldn't let be - not in you to let go. Not in me, either. I sent messages into the world, hoping you would hear them. Hoping to put you down for good. But you didn't come for me, or for answers. You came to deliver, ignorant of what you were doing. So Vulpes delivered you to me. We will soon find out why. But whatever the reason, I can't touch you now. Owe enough debts to Vulpes even for that."

"I knew about this place before Vulpes sent me here. I always meant to come."

"Yet it took a courier's task to bring you." He reached for the envelope and ripped it open. "Let us end that obligation now."

Six could see that the message was short, but Ulysses stared at it for a long time. Finally, he put the letter back into the envelope and into his pocket.

"You bring blood to the Bear. Change to the Bull. Who can say which is more deadly?" He sighed heavily. "Come with me."

Six followed him through the bunker to a small room. He removed his duster and dropped it onto a small cot, then sat next to it. He motioned her to the desk chair. She dragged it closer to him.

"Let me tell you about your past."

* * *

Ulysses talked for a long time. He told stories in a haphazard manner, detouring on tangents often, but always willing to answer questions. Six thought she could see patterns between the stories he told and her life as the Courier. Perhaps escaping a tribal life explained why she felt drawn to Follows-Chalk. It was possible that a life with no strong ties to family or community was a factor in her desire to be recognized as part of the Legion. Sometimes Ulysses would say something and she would ask him to repeat it three, four times; certain that she was about to remember something. But all she got were vague feelings. Names, places, and facts all stayed firmly out of reach.

"Do you think that people can change?" she asked.

"I don't know if a man can change himself. But roads can change you. Walking them always changes you. Sometimes in small ways. Sometimes in Long 15 ways. But every step moves you. Closer. Or further away."

"And what do you think would happen if you forgot all your roads?"

He looked at her uneasily. "Lost in the wasteland. You must have a better answer than I."


	13. You Can Go Home, Courier

_Put aside old grudges, Amicus. The new world you crave has always been possible in the Legion, and she will make it so. Surely that is worth swallowing your bitterness. She needs to know what happened at the Divide. Not only the end, but the beginning. She has created life before. She can do it again. Remember - you have no proof she brought the package knowingly._

_Take her to see Andromeda._

* * *

Ulysses made several biting comments about the Divide as they passed through, but by now Six was well used to everyone in her life being caustic. She did deserve most of it. At least dealing with the perils along the Courier's Mile was easier with two.

They arrived at Primm in good time. Ulysses took her to Johnson Nash's residence and knocked on the door.

A moment later it swung open. "Huh," Nash said. "Never thought I'd see you two together. Least 'ways not without somebody shootin' at somebody."

"Oh, it was all a misunderstanding," Six said. It was hard to tell under his mask, but she thought Ulysses glared at her. She smiled brightly at Nash.

Ulysses dug something from out of his pocket. It looked like a wooden doll, hand carved. "I have something for Andy."

Nash waved them inside, saying, "Come on in. She's due for her nap soon, but it won't kill her to stay awake a while longer. She sure likes to see you."

They were led upstairs. Six heard a gasp, "Uly!" and the sound of small feet running. Ulysses easily scooped up the little girl, who laughed and pulled on his braids. He managed to distract her with the toy.

She walked up to them. "Hi, Andy. My name is Six."

"Icks!" she said happily, and held out her hand. A wave or a counting error, she wasn't sure.

* * *

Six was lost in thought most of the afternoon. While Ulysses nearly got his hair ripped out by a small child, she tried to understand what seeing her was triggering in her mind. A little sister, perhaps, or...

It wouldn't come. It never would, she was sure.

They said goodbye to Andy and Johnson, and walked through the streets silently for a time.

"That was Vulpes' daughter, right?" she asked finally.

"Yes." He paused. "Don't tell him they call her Andy."

She laughed.

The sun neared the horizon. They stopped walking. Ulysses would continue west, back to the Divide. She would turn back to Primm, then on to New Vegas. Who knows what road they would meet on again, if they ever did.

"When you lose your way, you just have to walk the roads over again," she told him.

"You'll get lost," he replied.

"Yes," she agreed. "Lost in places I used to know. But I'm starting to recognize the signs."

He looked at her, then pulled Vulpes' letter and a pen from his inside jacket. He tore the paper in half and returned the part already written on to his pocket. When he was finished he folded the paper up tightly and handed it to her. He gave her a quick nod before turning away.

"Is this for Vulpes?" she called after him.

"...It's for the road."

She watched him walk toward the setting sun, mark of the old world flag on his back.

* * *

Chalk was gone from the Vikki and Vance. She stayed there for a time, sorting through her thoughts. Vulpes wasn't expecting her back for a while. She didn't have to decide anything yet.

Before she left, she bought a toy car from a travelling merchant and gave it to Andromeda.

* * *

_Home isn't where you're born into this world. You taught me that. Part of your message, whether you meant it or not. Can be a place of mind, a moment where you know who you are, the history of it. And they can be places you breathe life into._

A/N: I am currently planning three related one-shots featuring three different occasions in Vulpes Inculta's life. One will be earlier in his career, one will be the story behind his Ranger, and one will explain how Andromeda came to be. I am also entertaining the possibility of a chaptered Part Two, so keep checking in!


	14. Vulpes Inculta: ranger, fractum

Vulpes breaks an NCR Ranger. This piece is technically part of the Currere Sex world, but it functions completely as a stand alone story.

* * *

A/N: First of the Vulpes three-shot. The For those who did read Currere Sex, this is NOT Vulpes' infamous Ranger. That bit is still coming, don't worry. This particular story occurs around 2275/2278, which is a few years before a certain Courier gets shot in the head.

Just in case anyone forgot that Vulpes Inculta has Very Evil karma.

* * *

Vulpes Inculta walked into the tent and saw his prize on the bed. In chains.

Enchanting.

Her eyes were burning with anger and most likely shame as well. Hatred. Fear. Vulpes was very familiar with the look. The defiance of the helpless. This wasn't his first Ranger, after all.

He stopped by the foot of the bed and considered her, considered the different ways he could break her. Lanius surely never prevaricated over what to do to his slaves. Ever the one-track mind. As though breaking a person was as simple as breaking a pelvis. Vulpes preferred a more personalized approach. He had a good amount of time to work on this one. Perhaps he'd try something a bit more involved.

He reached down to stroke her hair. She violently jerked her head away from him and made rude noises against the gag in her mouth. Her hair was a warm brown color. It was mussed from her constant jerking.

"You do not need to be afraid, woman. I am not going to beat you. Well. Unless you do something to deserve it. But I don't think you'll be so disappointing, will you?" He reached over and untied the knot on the gag and threw the cloth to the ground.

She spat toward him, but her mouth was too dry. "Fuck you, dirty Legion scum! I'm not going to tell you anything, so you might as well just kill me!"

Vulpes laughed quietly. "Do you think there is any information you have that I do not? The NCR is clearly not smart enough to lay down arms and join the Legion-" the woman scoffed "-but I hoped a Ranger would at least recognize that when she is chained to a bed it's not for military intelligence."

Her lip curled up like a dog's snarl. He ran a finger down her jaw.

"What is your name?"

"Fuck you."

"Interesting. Tribal, is it? I'll soon fix that. If you don't want to tell me, that's fine. I'll give you a new one. How about Aconia?"

She looked away from him. "Fuck you," she replied.

"Annia?"

"Fuck you."

"Arria?"

"Fuck you."

"Bruttia?"

"Fuck you."

"Calpurnia?"

"Fuck you."

Vulpes smiled. He had all the patience in the world.

* * *

She finally stopped at Vita ("Fuck, does it matter? Call me Vita, call me nothing at all, just fucking shut up!"), all the way down in the V's. He was slightly impressed.

"Alright, Vita. Let me tell you the rules. This is our tent. You will not leave it until I give you permission. Until I can trust you, you'll have to wear these chains," he said, fingering the cold metal. She ignored him. "When you make me happy, you will get rewards. When you make me unhappy, you will get punished. I don't want to hurt you, Vita. But you need to be trained."

Vita looked at him, smiled, and said, "Fuck you."

"Not yet, Vita. You haven't earned it."

* * *

For an entire month, all he did was touch her.

He left her legs tied together, but spread her arms out diagonally on the bed. He laid down next to her and ran his fingers down her sides, thighs, neck. At first she kicked him a couple times, but after some strong hits to the face and ribs she seemed to decide it was easier to grit her teeth and bear it. It was just touching, after all.

Now it only took a few minutes to make her shiver.

She didn't speak Latin. He slid his fingers up the crease between her legs. He whispered, as if to himself, _"Habe lectoris nasus directe, architriclinus, vel amica lac erit contramandavit mea bracæ ..."_

"What... what are you saying?" she breathed.

Vulpes paused. "I," he stopped short and removed his hand. "Nothing," he finished. He got up, threw a blanket over her, and left the tent.

Outside, he grinned.

* * *

Vulpes knew she wouldn't admit to feeling badly. Couldn't say aloud that she felt abandoned or guilty or lonely when he didn't come back that night. Worried that she had done something wrong. She might not even realize that she was feeling any of that, but he could see it in the way she avoided his eyes. Her deferential speech and soft tone. Whether she knew it or not, she craved his company.

To be fair, it was the only company she ever got. Which was exactly why he kept her in the tent.

"Good morning, Vita."

"...morning."

He climbed on the bed and straddled her hips.

She sucked in a small breath. She closed her eyes and turned her face away. He smiled, and let her. This time.

Vulpes leaned down and put his open mouth on her chest, between her breasts. His tongue, flat and soft, traced the outline of one, then the other. Her ribcage rose and fell quickly. He worried her nipple with his teeth, gently, and sucked on them until they were raised and sensitive. His fingers traced down her side to her thighs and stroked them, moving in slow circles toward her sex. He could feel the small twitches of her muscles against his arm. Her eyes were still screwed tightly shut, her face pointed away from him. Her legs opened slightly.

He did not wait for more space. She wouldn't give more the first time. He covered her slit with his hand and spread his fingers to force her legs apart. After a token resistance and a strangled sound in the back of her throat, she complied.

She didn't make another noise for ten minutes. When she came, the moan sounded like it was torn forcibly from a reluctant throat.

She only cried a little.

* * *

The next morning Vulpes began to take her chains off while he was in the tent with her. A few days after that she began to push her boundaries again. It was only natural. He tied her, face down, on the bed and fetched his crop from the locked footlocker next to the bed. She twisted and flailed to try to see him.

"What are you doing? What is that?"

"This," he said, holding the crop at the ends and bending it slightly, "is called a crop. Caravaneers use them on pack brahmin to keep them moving." He slid the crop through his hand. The leather was cool to the touch. "I don't use it for that purpose, of course, but I think it will be just as effective in this situation."

"What-"

_Crack._

"Fuck!"

"You do not talk back to me."

_Crack._

"Stop!"

"You do not talk back to me."

_Crack._

"Uh, God, fuck, I'm sorry-"

_Crack_.

"Uhh!"

"If you are truly sorry, you will rectify your behavior. I will continue until you are quiet."

_Crack._

* * *

Her breathing was ragged and he saw a glint of hatred in her eyes and he sat on the bed next to her. He petted her hair. "I don't like to hurt you. Do you know what would happen if you left our tent and spoke like that to anyone else? They would kill you on the spot. You have to know not to do that, Vita."

She didn't respond.

"Are you going to talk back to me again, Vita?" he asked.

"No," she spat.

His hand tightened painfully around her hair. "What was that, Vita?"

"I said no, Vulpes," she said quietly.

"Are you sorry?"

"I am sorry, Vulpes."

He relaxed his grip and began stroking her again. "I worry for you, you know. If you can't behave, you'll never be safe outside our tent."

She whimpered slightly as he cleaned the gashes on her back and slathered them in a healing paste.

* * *

Vulpes entered his tent precisely after sundown. It was empty. A spike of fear went through him. Vita gained full outdoor privileges only a week ago. It had taken a eight months to get her that far, to be sure enough of her to allow the movement. Then, after acquainting her with the layout of the camp, Vulpes started with specific errands. Fetch water. Bring these clothes to the wash area. She completed those tasks swiftly. She was afraid of the world outside of the tent. She still avoided it, only leaving to accomplish her chores. She had always been back before sundown. It was the rule.

He decided to check the mess area first. As he pushed aside the door flap, he collided with a small body and sent it flying.

"Vita!" She was sprawled on the ground, pots of rice and water scattered. She immediately scrambled to clean it up. He loomed over her. "You're late."

"I am sorry, Vulpes. I didn't mean to be, I-"

"Get inside. Now."

She went, head bowed.

"Come over here," he said, sitting down on the camp stool in the corner. Her face was bruised and there was blood on her lip. He thought he had a good idea of what happened. "Why were you not home before sundown?"

"Legionaries," she said, a bit forcefully. He ignored it.

"What did they do?"

She glanced up at him and her eyebrow raised ever so slightly. She knew he could guess the story. He still waited for her to say it. "They wanted me to go with them. Behind the mess tent."

"Did you tell them you were mine?"

"Yes. They accused me of lying. Said I wasn't pretty enough to be an owned slave."

"And then?"

"They took me behind the mess tent. They pushed me. Down. On my knees. They - made me. They made me do it. And-"

He held up a hand to stop her. He was correct in his assumption. The senseless recruits thought they could use a superior officer's property. That would have to be rectified. Although, he could use this to reinforce her trust in him. The situation might actually work to his advantage.

"Go clean yourself," he ordered.

He walked to the mess tent and had the slave there prepare him two bowls of hot squirrel stew.

* * *

The next morning he gathered the recruits and had them stand in a line.

"Theft is not tolerated in the Legion," he said loudly. "Everyone knows this. To use another man's slave is to steal from him. You have taken what was not yours, and I will get mine back." He glared down the line. "Every tenth legionary step forward."

* * *

It was a few days before the news traveled around the camp, but an evening came when Vita asked him.

"Vulpes?"

"What is it?" he replied without glancing up from his reports.

"I heard. In the wash tent, they were talking."

He said nothing. She stepped closer to him.

"They said you punished the men who... In the mess tent. That you had them killed."

He set down the report. "Vita, come here. Kneel down." From that vantage their eyes were the same height. Hers were wide, with only the smallest hint of suspicion. Or perhaps fear. "You do not belong to them. You belong to me."

She swallowed.

He waited.

"Thank you," she whispered.

He allowed his face to soften. He brought her to stand next to the bed. He removed her clothing slowly, then his own. He laid her down beneath him and said, "They were wrong, you know. You're beautiful."

A moment passed and her lips twisted into a sneer. He chuckled. He waited until they smoothed out, then he kissed them.

As he pushed into her, arms wrapped around his back of their own accord.

* * *

A month later, Lord Caesar sent Vulpes on an extended mission to the Strip. He sold Vita to Canyon Runner. She had been fun, but a little time consuming. Next time, he mused, he might try a more Lanius-like approach.

* * *

A/N: In case you couldn't tell, I cannot write the smut. I tried! I really did! I probably rewrote this story, or at least parts of it, twenty times or more. I started off with the firm intention that This Time, I was going to Write A Damn Sex Scene Already, but no matter how I tried it kept fading to black when all the steamy bits reared their heads. I doubt it, but if anyone with a skill for the smut wants to take a crack at sticking it in there (no pun intended), just let me know. I'd gladly label this as co-authored by Major Tom if that happened. And maybe do a little happy dance.


	15. Vulpes Inculta: Harder

Harder

underage, (kind of), sadomasochism, mentions of cutting, (but not angst!cutting), slavery

A/N: This does have underage stuff in it. But remember, this is a Roman based slaver culture living in a post-apocalyptic society. While Roman marriage by the first century BCE was markedly more equal between men and women than it is in "Kaisar"'s Legion, the custom they probably would embrace more easily is the young age of "consent" for sexual relations and the marriageability of girls. So Vulpes is 23/24 ish, and the girl is around 15 at the beginning of this story, and that's probably pretty normal for their culture.

* * *

"Harder."

Vulpes froze. "What?"

"Do it harder. Please."

He dropped the crop as if it burned him and left the tent.

* * *

What had started as a simple exercise to release his frustration had left him shaken, and if that was the woman's goal she had achieved it.

She wasn't supposed to enjoy it.

She was lying, obviously. Trying to unsettle him.

He was unsettled.

The thought that anyone would enjoy pain in that way was incredibly unsettling.

He found, to his surprise, that he liked the thought a great deal. He hoped, unreasonably, illogically, shamefully, that she wasn't lying.

* * *

He returned to her the next evening. He hadn't planned on keeping her, but the thought of her whispering, _"harder,"_ imagining, _"yes, Vulpes, please, harder, yes, oh God, right now, do it, yes,"_ ran through his mind all day.

He ran his fingers along the raised welts on her back. She shivered.

"Please," _yes harder oh fuck, _"I have to use the latrine."

He untied her. "It's around the back."

He sat heavily with his face in his hands. Hopefully she would never return.

She did. She was born and raised a Legion slave. Where else would she go? She stood meekly at his side.

Maybe she did like it.

"What is your name?" he asked her.

She looked surprised. "Servillia."

"Who gave that name to you?"

"The Priestesses."

"You've never been owned before?"

"No. Last night was my first night away from the other women."

So there had been no man to train her to say _harder yes faster oh god Vulpes please, _no man to take her to his bed. She was young. Could someone be born to naturally enjoy pain?

"Get on the bed."

She went quickly, and he stared down at her for a moment.

"You liked what I did to you last night," he said quietly. "Didn't you?"

She looked up at him, eyes wide. Her yellow hair surrounded her head like a halo. She looked away. "Yes, Vulpes," she whispered.

He shook his head incredulously. He asked, "Were you beaten as a child?"

"The Priestesses hit your knuckles with a stick if you misbehave," she said. "But that is all."

"And did you enjoy that?" She nodded. "Why?"

"I don't know. No one else did. I... I didn't talk about it."

He still didn't understand, but having spent all day thinking about it he could hold back no longer. He quickly stripped her clothing off. She trembled nervously. "I-"

There were thin scars on her thighs and stomach.

"Who did this to you?"

She averted her eyes. "I... no one. I did. It just... feels... good."

He stroked the scars absentmindedly and wondered if her body was simply put together wrong, interpreting pain as pleasure. He decided that it didn't really matter. "Let's make you feel good, then."

* * *

He watched her through the open flap of his tent. Her task as a slave was carrying water from the river. She brought it to the mess tent and the laundry area. It kept her arms strong and her shoulders stooped. He caressed her bruises each night. He could get her an easier job, but she never complained. He asked her, and she had only shrugged. I don't mind it, Vulpes, she had said before pulling him towards the bed. He watched her, and struggled with himself. He couldn't decide if his feelings were Dissolute, or hers were. He reasoned that hurting someone who enjoyed it was no worse, was better perhaps, than hurting someone who didn't. But the thought never comforted him for long. He had never seen or heard of such a thing. Was she the only one in the world? Was he? Were they... unique?

She seemed to stand alone, always a step removed from the world around her. Even Vulpes himself. Sometimes he felt the only time she was real was when they were in bed together. She was a slave, but to look at her one wouldn't think so. She was never unhappy. She floated above the dirt of the Wasteland, above anger and sickness. Above pain.

She returned to the tent and he followed her inside. He watched her rebraid her hair. A complicated pattern she claimed to have learned from the Priestesses, but he had never seen it on another slave. Servillia. Much too common a name. Evanidis, Evanidia perhaps.

"Do you like your name, Servillia?" he asked her.

She fastened the last lock of hair into place. "What's in a name?" she said.

Indeed.

* * *

They lay on the bed, slightly sticky from sweat and the heat of the desert. Vulpes turned to her and traced the red lines on her shoulders.

"I have a mission tomorrow. It should take less than a week."

"Alright."

He frowned. Alright? That was it? He didn't know what he wanted her to say, couldn't imagine what else she would say. She was secure in his abilities. She never told him to be careful; she knew he would be. She did not fear for his safety because she believed in him. He knew that. He appreciated that about her. But tonight, he wanted more. He couldn't explain it. The mission was not a dangerous one. Not moreso than usual. He felt the intimacy that existed in their painful encounters was fading too quickly this time. She was receding from him again. Not on purpose. It was her nature. For the first time, he resented it.

"What would you do if I did not return?" he asked quietly.

She gave him a strange look. "I would go back to the slave barracks," she said. "Did you not know?"

"Until someone else laid a claim on you," he said.

"I suppose."

He tried again. "Would you... miss me?" he whispered.

She rolled over to face him with the strangest smile he had ever seen. Sad, happy, affectionate, exasperated. So many things lived in her smile, and it was beautiful. "Yes," she said, and she kissed him, and he believed her whole-heartedly.

* * *

Cato joined him for the midday meal in the mess tent. He had been back for a few days from an extended scouting mission and was happy to be in civilization, but he still found things to complain about.

"I mean, really," he said as they sat down. "What do the priestesses even teach these women? She can't even clean my armor properly."

"A travesty," Vulpes said flatly.

Cato grinned at him. "I suppose you can be glib. Everyone says you've got the prettiest, most well-behaved slave that ever lived."

Vulpes considered this as he ate. Physically, Servillia was not the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, indeed was not the most beautiful in the camp. Her hair was fine and golden, but there were others who had slimmer fingers, more ample bosoms. Her shoulders were permanently bowed from hauling water. Others had told him, though, that they thought she was the best. He imagined it was because there were no others who radiated simple happiness like she did. A smile on a slave was not a common occurrence. She walked through the wasteland as if it were beautiful, and people noticed. It made her beautiful in turn.

"I suppose I do," he said.

* * *

The next morning after his daily ablutions he returned to the tent to find Servillia's bright eyes clouded by tears, her curved shoulders shaking with sobs. The sight was so alien to him that for a moment he could only stand by the doorway and stare. She looked up at him.

"Come to me, Vulpes," she pleaded, and buried her face in her hands.

He came and kneeled next to the bed, unsure of what to do with his hands, with his mouth. Eventually he took her hands from her face and held them in his. "What has happened, Servillia? What's wrong?"

"I had a dream," she said, before breaking into more tears.

"What dream?" he asked. "What dream could cause this?"

"Carmenta came to me."

"Carmenta?" Vulpes cursed. There were far too many Gods in this religion.

"She is a goddess of fertility and... she came to me," she said, her breathing starting to calm. "She told me I was with child."

"Servillia. Just because you had a dream-"

"I have suspected this for nearly three months."

He gaped at her, but soon began to smile. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I wasn't sure. I didn't want to worry you if I were wrong."

"Worry me? This is great news!" he said. "I did not plan on having a son so young, but-"

"It is a girl."

Vulpes was silent. He hadn't even considered that it might not be a boy. There was no shame in having a daughter, of course. It wasn't as though it could be controlled. But there was no honor in it, either. Was that what she was concerned about? It didn't seem likely.

"It's fine, Servillia."

"No, it is not fine!" she yelled, and began to cry again. He had never heard her raise her voice, not once. But then, he had never seen her cry, either. He tried to comfort her, but she would not be comforted. She ripped her hands from his and started pacing the tent. "They will take her from me."

"Yes," he agreed carefully. "They would take a son, too. Children are raised by the priestesses or by the instructors."

"It is not the same," she said. "And even still, I would not want them to take a son from me. But it does not matter. Carmenta told me it was a girl. And she told me what will happen to her if she stays here."

"It was just a dream-"

She turned to him. "I do not need a dream to tell me what I already know. She will be taken to the Priestesses, and eventually she will be taken by a Legion man to be owned."

Vulpes was shocked. "Surely you of all people do not hate the Legion or your place in life. Why would you say that it is not good enough for your daughter?" He hesitated. "Are you unhappy with your life?" he asked.

She seemed to calm immediately at his words. "No, Vulpes. I am not unhappy. Don't think that." She came to him and held his hands. "I have been lucky. I have had one man in my life, and that man is wise and thoughtful. And I..." she looked away. "I do not mind some of the harsher realities," she said delicately. "Other women are not so lucky as I. I cannot risk her life this way. Carmenta has told me that Andromeda will not share my qualities."

"Andromeda?"

Servillia smiled up at him. "Do you like it?"

"It is very pretty," he agreed. "But wasn't Andromeda sacrificed by her parents to save their own lives?"

"Not this time," she whispered. Her smile remained bright, but for a moment her eyes seemed clouded with sadness.

* * *

Vulpes led Ulysses far from the camp before he felt comfortable enough to speak openly. They settled their backs against a cliff face in a narrow passage. A good place for a small force to engage a large enemy. A good place to have a treasonous conversation.

"May ask, Inculta, why you have called me back?"

His eyes wandered down Ulysses' dark locks of hair, to his dark eyes. So different from Servillia's light blue. Tears spilling from them as she told him. Each drop a chain, pulling her down.

He knew Ulysses didn't particularly like him, but they had saved each other's skin enough times to be in debt to the other their entire lives, even if they reached the unlikely age of fifty. And also, Ulysses was not the most... _devout _of Legionaries. A fact that, in the past, had caused Vulpes distress. It would only help him this day.

"I think, Amicus, you can dispense with the formality of 'Inculta'. This is not strictly Legion business I wish to discuss. Anyway, there is no hurry. That courier you've been following will keep well enough for a week or two."

Ulysses snorted. "True enough. I know where she will end up."

"Yes," he replied. "Back to Hopeville. I imagine such a community, with such a name, must be a pleasant place to spend your time."

"It is interesting," he allowed.

"I imagine that in your travels, you encounter many similar towns."

"Some. Are you setting your sights further west?" he asked.

"In a way. In a way."

Ulysses was not inclined to tolerate long silences. "If we could move to the point, Vulpes, perhaps you would find it easier."

"Yes," he said quietly, but still took a moment before speaking. "My slave. She is with child. She tells me it will be female. I do not understand why she feels so certain, but she is. She has already named it Andromeda."

Ulysses nodded. "Mother's intuition. I've heard of it before." He eyed Vulpes. "The priestesses-"

"The priestesses will train her to be an empty shell. And one day a young girl I have never met will be plucked by a soldier who does not understand the difference between profligate and woman. I will not -" he cut himself off. "Not _mine,_" he finished. _Not hers _was left unsaid.

Ulysses chuckled. "I think you are assuming that your daughter will be a great beauty, to be chosen from the masses. Your woman must be extraordinarily stunning." Vulpes gave him a wan smile. "So, you want me to steal your daughter away in the night, give her to a profligate town? How delightfully disloyal."

"Not exactly. I would ask that you take Servillia away before she gives birth. Take her to a place as far west as you regularly travel. I want you to keep watch on her. I want you to always know where my daughter is," he said. "The situation at the Fort is such that I will not be able to take an extended leave for many months, or I would do this myself." Vulpes sighed heavily.

Ulysses raised an eyebrow at him. "I never knew you had such sentimentality."

"It is only natural to desire to protect one's own blood."

"This is a large favor you ask of me, _Amicus_."

Vulpes glared at him. "I would remind you of the multitude of times your head would've been separated from your body if not for my presence."

"And I would remind you of the same."

"Going by numbers," Vulpes retorted, "I think you would have to agree that you are rather more in my debt than I am in yours. Say you do this. Then I am slightly more in your debt than you are in mine."

"No, that can't be right. Last time I counted we were almost equal."

* * *

After locating a stick and doing some basic arithmetic in the sand, Ulysses muttered, "I must be forgetting something."

"Your memory is spot on, dear friend. Even a favor such as mine will not clear the slate completely."

Ulysses laughed. "Not completely, no." They stood and brushed the sand from their clothing. "When do you want to do this?" Ulysses asked.

"Tomorrow."

Ulysses caught the other man's eye with a smile. "Amare et sapere vix deo conceditur, eh?"

Vulpes scoffed.

* * *

He watched Servillia struggle over the Latin book. He had taught her some basic reading and writing, but it was difficult for her. She tried valiantly, however. He did not miss that the books and passages she sought out involved the old gods, mostly Carmenta and Libera, another of the fertility goddesses. His eyes ran down the curves of her body; the waves in her hair, the angle of her elbow resting on the table, the bulge in her womb that contained part of himself. She was hiding something from him, he was sure. Something about the baby. But he knew her well enough that if she were, she had a reason, and he wouldn't be able to change her mind. She would tell him when it was time for him to know. He stood and rested a hand on her shoulder. She was warm. She looked up at him. Light blue eyes, brow furrowed from trying to decipher the text. He had not used the crop on her since the morning she had told him she was with child, and he would not do so tonight.

"I want to try something new, Servillia."

He handed the crop to her.

She went easy on him, Vulpes could tell. He said, "Harder," and he could no longer tell pleasure from pain.

* * *

His hand did not shake as he read the letter.

_Vulpes-_

_Cassiopeia falls as Andromeda rises._

_Rome weeps with joy and loss._

_\- Ulysses_

His hand did not shake as he dropped it into the campfire.

* * *

A/N:  
_Amare et sapere vix deo conceditur_ \- Even a god finds it hard to love and be wise at the same time.

Also, let me iterate that I am not making any kind of comment on cutting or people who engage in BDSM type relationships. I'm not trying to say anything about the relative healthiness of Vulpes and Servillia's relationship. All this is, is something that occured in Vulpes' past. Whether you think anything about it is right or wrong, good or bad, it is simply a story of what happened. If it offends you that a fifteen year old girl might like pain, I would argue that neural pathways can incorrectly report sensations of the body and interpret pain as pleasure. If it offends you that I compared masochism to incorrect neural pathways, I would argue that that certainly might not be the case. I've never been to medical school, and neither has anyone in the Legion. Perhaps Vulpes should ask Arcade about it. That would be a fun conversation..


	16. Vulpes Inculta: Emmanentize the Eschaton

**Emmanentizing the Eschaton**

* * *

The wind off the Colorado cooled the sweat on Vulpes Inculta's brow. Aurelius of Phoenix stood to the left of him, the Legate Lanius to the right. Caesar himself in front of them. Lucius and the Courier on either side. The people most responsible for the Legion's victory.

"Ave, legionaries!" Caesar's voice echoed off the ravine walls, met with a deafening cheer. "Mars has seen fit to bathe us in the blood of our enemies. The river runs red today!"

The subordinates cheered loudly. Vulpes allowed himself a small smile; the merest upturning of the corner of his mouth. For a man who never showed emotion unless it was calculated for a purpose, it was enough.

"Ave, Lanius." Caesar came to stand in front of the Legate first. "You have shown great bravery today, as you do all days, of course. For your success in taking Hoover Dam I will have a new helmet forged for you, steel plated with gold, so all that may come against you will see the shine in the eyes of Mars for miles."

Caesar stepped to him next.

"And Vulpes. Able leader of my Frumentarii. Without your, shall we say, particular acumen, we would have been fighting in the dark. As it is you gathered exceptional amounts of intelligence and at the same time struck the fear of the Gods into every profligate to hear the name Legion. Among certain other tasks, of course." Vulpes deepened his smile to a smirk. "You will have first pick of the slaves. I know how you like those NCR Rangers."

He responded quickly. "It is rewarding to watch them break, my Lord."

"Indeed." Caesar continued speaking to the others, but Vulpes only listened with one ear. The wind felt suddenly cold, and he repressed a shudder.

"Legion in aeternum!" Caesar declared. "Legion forever!"

* * *

He walked slowly across the dam. He did not go back to the room he temporarily occupied. There was already a woman waiting there. Caesar thought it such a great gift he had her delivered that very night. The female ranger who had killed the most Legionaries, which other would Vulpes choose? The thought of it nauseated him. Wild eyes and gruff voice and spit and profanities. He used to enjoy such things. The moon shone on the water, a dull silver. It reminded him of her hair, even though it was the wrong color. He wanted to shake his head, put his face in his hands, but he did not. He was still in control of his expressions, if not his actual emotions. There was no reason for anyone to see him and think he was doing anything other than sentry rounds. Showing distress wouldn't help her. Nothing could help her now. She was too beautiful for this world, and always had been. The Gods had called her home.

He closed his eyes in embarrassment. Mortality and the moonlight was making him ignominiously sentimental. He looked toward to bright lights of New Vegas to try and distract himself. He found something better. The Courier. A woman who made as little sense as Servillia had. But unlike Servillia, he rather thought that the Courier's mystery would recede the more he knew about her.

"Courier," he said, startling her, "you look lost."

She tried to hide her surprise, but wasn't successful. "You can just call me Six. I'm not a courier anymore," she said in a monotone.

"So you aren't," he agreed. "What are you, I wonder?" Silence stretched between them. "I suppose you don't even know."

Six bristled. "Don't you have a Ranger to be getting back to?"

"She'll keep," he responded. She looked uncomfortable. He wondered exactly what was pressing on her mind. Most likely she felt purposeless now that the dam was won. If that was the case, she wouldn't respond to direct questioning. Indirect questioning, then. "Does it not bother you, imagining what I am going to do to her?"

She shrugged. "The fate of an NCR dog means nothing to me." He continued staring at her. Silence was a useful tool. "I don't care to imagine it, though," she admitted.

Vulpes smiled. "I have been waiting for this moment for a long time."

"The moment where you get to go rape your Ranger?" she spat.

He gritted his teeth and walked to the edge to lean on the low wall next to her. "The moment when you realize you have more in common with _my Ranger_ than you do with any man wearing red."

The Courier turned away, embarrassed. "How dare you?" she said quietly. "I have been honored today, as you have, by Caesar himself. And yet you question my allegiance."

"How could I not?"

"After all I have done-"

"All you have done makes no sense," he interrupted. "This is the only thing that does. That is why I knew it would come."

She turned to him now. "I fight for the Legion. I do as my Lord -"

"Exactly. You fight for the Legion." He looked her up and down slowly.

"And?"

"Don't play the stupid profligate with me," he said coldly. She opened her mouth angrily, but he cut her off. "I remember Nipton. I remember a girl whose eyes went wide seeing crucified bodies. That was the first time you surprised me. Young girl, scared expression. Yet the words you said to me were strong. Like a recruit. Not accustomed to the sight, but accepting of the truth. Of course, you did not know the whole truth then, did you?"

"And what is that, then?"

"Oh, you know it now. In Nipton you saw something larger than yourself. You saw strength. You saw justice, pure and true. You saw the corruption of the wasteland, and the fact that it can be stopped. But soon after, I imagine, you realized what you never saw."

"I'm tiring of this circular conversation, Vulpes."

"You never saw a woman in Legion armor."

"I guess I'm the first," she said. His narrowed his eyes. "Figuratively," she added. "I heard some things, obviously. But clearly it isn't that bad if Caesar had you deliver the Mark to me," she said.

"Caesar needed someone who could get into the Lucky 38-"

She stepped closer to him, invading his space. An obvious play for dominance. "The Lord Caesar never said a single word to me about being a woman. He assigned me tasks and expected me to carry them out. And I did. Very well. And he honored me today. Put my face on money so everyone could see it. He clearly has no problem with me."

"With you? No. He recognizes all you have done. You had... advantages, as a Dissolute-"

"Don't call me that," she snapped.

Vulpes cocked his head to the side. "But that's what you are. There are no women Legionaries."

She stepped back and looked away. "You need women. You can't have a society of just men."

"Obviously. We have many slaves. Some of us have wives back in Flagstaff. Understand, of course, that the term 'wife' does not mean 'equal'. Then are women that live what you would consider normal lives under Legion rule. But they are not Legion themselves. They and their ilk are called the Dissolute. Civilized towns that have been incorporated by the Legion do not get enslaved." Vulpes smiled wide, showing his teeth. "We're not monsters."

"Well. I'm not a slave. I'm not a wife. And I'm not Dissolute. So don't call me that."

Vulpes still didn't understand her. Servillia wasn't a slave. She wasn't a wife or Dissolute, either. She was above all those things. To her, those things might well not have existed. But the Courier was bound by anger to those words. She wanted to rebel against a society she wasn't even in. "Why do you want so desperately to be part of something that despises you? Do you want to be special? The only female legionary? A living legend?"

Six didn't respond right away, and the two faded into silence. A thought that had been living quietly in the back of Vulpes' mind for the last few months began to take shape. They looked toward the East as the dawn broke.

"Caesar's opinion is all that matters. And honestly," she said quietly, with a small smile, "I think once you're on the money, you _are_ a bit of a legend. Enjoy your Ranger, Vulpes."

She turned away from him, and he desperately wanted to hit her. He watched her go inside, and waited a few minutes before descending himself. He did need to do something about the Ranger. Hopefully she would be unspeakably ugly and no one would question him getting rid of her immediately. Maybe he should just kill her, because he certainly couldn't stand to have her around.

He never reached the room, however. It seemed as though Legion culture was determined to make it's mark upon the Courier as quickly as possible. He pulled out his 9mm and put down two of the Legionaries. "You saw this person being honored by Caesar this morning, so you thought good sport for the evening would be beating her?" he asked the remaining one.

* * *

"Will she never stop getting herself into trouble?" Caesar said, quite rhetorically.

Vulpes answered anyway. "If not for her ability to get herself into trouble, we may not have been victorious, my Lord."

"Obviously, Inculta. I simply worry where her energy will go without the NCR to pit her against."

Lanius broke in gruffly. "Just kill her, then. Her usefulness is done."

Vulpes coughed quietly. "I very much doubt we could ever drain her of usefulness. For whatever reason, she is completely enamored with the Legion and also, if I'm not much mistaken, with you personally, Lord Caesar. Such loyalty is not something to be tossed away without consideration."

"Besides that," Caesar said, "she has indeed helped our causes a great deal. I do not punish success, Lanius." The Legate remained silent and impassive behind his new mask. "But you think we could have use of her yet, Inculta? I fail to see how. There is no longer a Lucky 38 to gain entry to."

"Killing House was not the only thing she accomplished for us. As to specific missions, I cannot say, but then I cannot predict what missions the future holds."

Caesar raised an eyebrow at him. "You speak as though you would like her in your Frumentarii."

Vulpes scoffed. "I do not suggest it. But that is certainly what she would like."

"She said this?"

"No, but I can read it in her. Perhaps not a Frumentarius, but a Centurion, or a Denacus at least."

Caesar laughed. "Put a woman into the Legionaries' tents? She can't possibly expect that." Vulpes only shrugged. "No, that is not what will happen. I will offer her homestead in Flagstaff, as I had planned."

"I doubt she will see that as a reward, my Lord. Also, while I am sure of her loyalty, her actions are not something that I can predict easily. I would caution against sending her to Flagstaff where no one will... anticipate her personality."

"What would you recommend then, Inculta?"

"If she wishes to remain on the frontier, I would advise you to let her. Who knows? As we push west and south there may be more Brotherhood bunkers to destroy."

"I can't just let her stay. I don't wish to be in the habit of employing mercenaries. If it weren't for her invitation to the Lucky 38 I wouldn't have ever contacted her. If she were to stay, she would have to become part of this society in some way. I will not have mercenaries become common practice."

"I defer to your wisdom, my Lord."

Caesar sighed heavily. "If only she were a man," he said.

They continued talking long into the night. Vulpes felt a trickle of hope; the first he felt since the Courier killed House, when he began to have the vague notion that it could be the beginning of a new age.

* * *

She wasn't happy. Of course she wasn't. She wanted to be part of the Legion, and Caesar wouldn't let her. Servillia never needed to be part of anything, or be close to anything. Always aloof, always removed. Not like the Courier. The Courier was always present, always blowing things up and shooting weapons and demanding to be noticed. After all she had done, she still felt invisible. Could it be that simple? Vulpes doubted it.

"Leave us," he said to the doctor.

He sat on the chair next to the Courier's bed. "I guess we know who you are now, Six Inculta." She said nothing. "I imagine this is not what you hoped would come from that conversation."

"Don't you have a battle to prepare for?" she said flatly.

"I am not going to the battle. I am the leader of the Frumentarii, not a field commander."

He reached out towards her and she flinched away. Vulpes smiled wanly. "That's no way to repay me for my kindness. I saved you from Lanius."

"Right. I'm sure your Ranger will be pleased that your attentions will be divided."

He jerked his hand back. "Lanius might not have made the distinction between Profligate and Dissolute," he began.

"Oh, I'm still fucking Dissolute, am I?" Six laughed, but tears began streaming down her cheeks. "Lovely."

Crying. Vulpes hated crying. Servillia never cried. Only once. Only over life, not titles. "Stop that, it is most unattractive," he snapped.

"Like I give a shit at this point."

"As is cursing. But if you would let me speak, I apologize." She looked up at him. He was uncomfortable. "I misspoke. You are no longer Dissolute. But again. Lanius would likely not have made that distinction. He has no cares for the societal aspects of the Legion, only the freedom it gives him to satiate his blood thirst." He paused. "And the slaves, I suppose."

"And you clearly have no interest in slaves. Let me ask your Ranger what she thinks about-"

"The Ranger is dead," he said simply. "Or will be soon, I should say. I am a man of great talents, but I doubt I could wrangle you both at once."

She continued to argue, of course. Vulpes doubted the woman would stop talking until her final breath left her, and perhaps not even then. He smirked inwardly. She had already come back from the dead once to give someone a piece of her mind.

"You said last night. None of the things I did until now made sense. Because I'm a woman, fighting for the Legion. Now I see what you mean. Because this doesn't make any sense. You're making out like you're protecting me, like you want me to succeed in what I want. But why would you want that? You're Legion. I'm a woman. Why would you care at all about me?"

Vulpes didn't answer right away. The truth was far too dangerous to speak in this tent, and far to distant in the future for him to want to acknowledge, anyway. He recognized that his vision was nigh impossible. He might as well try to institute heaven on earth, or clean water for all the wasteland. He should, realistically, give up now. He should have given up as soon as Servillia died, or even before. Take his daughter and run far, far away. That is what she would have done. What she did do. It was the safest option for everyone.

He looked at the Courier. Battered. Humiliated. Discarded.

Angry. Fierce. Determined.

Perhaps that's what Servillia would do. But it wasn't what the Courier would do. And it wasn't what he was going to do.

"Perhaps when you answer my question, I'll answer yours."

Six grimaced. "Well. Whatever your end game is, I can tell you right now. You're never going to fuck me. I'll kill you first."

Vulpes nearly laughed out loud. Of all the ulterior motives he could have.

* * *

Canyon Runner collected the NCR Ranger himself, while Vulpes stayed back at the Fort. He was glad. He hadn't wanted to see her.


	17. The Long 15

Blessings and curses and Med-X confessions. Another stop on the Courier's mile.

* * *

The ghouls were fierce. The high radiation healed them almost instantly. Six and Vulpes worked well together; but soon enough they were running out of ammo. They fell back, taking turns to lay down covering fire until they escaped the ghouls and her pip-boy's Geiger counter stopped beeping.

They stopped in the Mojave Outpost to catch their breath. Six sighed heavily. "Why would they do that to themselves?" she wondered out loud.

Vulpes didn't answer. He looked sick. Six dug in her backpack and pulled out a bag of Radaway and a needle.

"No," he said.

"We both need Radaway after that adventure. You look like a wilting flower. You don't handle radiation well, do you?"

"I know how that works," he said, breathing heavily. "I am not having you pour that... foul concoction straight into my veins."

"Don't be so melodramatic. It's not _drugs_, not really. It's not Psycho or Jet or even Med-X. It just gets rid of radiation in your body. It doesn't have any side effects. Well. Not _sinful_ ones, anyway," she allowed.

"Reliance," he panted, "on pre-war medicines... is weakness... I just need to... rest a moment..." He leaned over, was violently sick, and collapsed.

"Right," Six said, irritated.

She dragged him into the empty barracks.

To avoid lifting him, she pulled a mattress to the floor and rolled him onto it. She inserted the needle into his arm. "Weakness, huh?" she muttered as she hung the bag from the bunk ladder. "I'm not the one collapsing as soon as the adrenaline wears off..."

She situated her own medicine using a technique she picked up in her scavenging days, early after getting shot. She wrapped the needle tightly in bandages to keep it stable, then used ripped sheets to tie the bag to her shoulder. This way she was free to explore the barracks, and had relatively unhindered movement if the ghouls, or anyone else, showed up.

There wasn't much left at the outpost. She found a book on explosives that would help her while away the time until Vulpes woke up and started shouting at her, but not much in the way of food or drink. One lone Med-X syringe inside a footlocker. She hesitated before placing it on a table near her, then settled down to read.

After thirty minutes, she heard groaning. She put the book down and surreptitiously grabbed the syringe. She might need it.

She knelt next to Vulpes. "Hey. Are you with us, now?" she asked.

He leaned over and dry heaved.

"That's what happens when you ignore radiation your entire life," she said kindly.

He tried to glare at her, but he looked so pathetic she couldn't stop a laugh.

"You-" He coughed violently. He gave up speaking and instead focused on trying to remove the needle from his arm.

"No, leave it," she said, trying to contain his hands. "You need this. You may need another one after this. Just - _stop it!_"

"My... don't... out..."

She made a noise of annoyance. "If you don't leave it alone I swear I will knock you unconscious."

He didn't leave it alone, of course. She shouldered him, half to stop his hands from ripping out the tube, and half to block him from seeing what she was about to do. She stabbed the Med-X into his arm and pressed the plunger. Hopefully, if he remembered the slight pain, he would think it was from the Radaway needle. He soon sunk back down, muttering unintelligibly for a few minutes.

"I did warn you," she said.

He wasn't entirely under, but he was too fucked up to argue about the medicine. Probably too fucked up to even remember it was there. He really had no tolerance for chems. She retrieved her book from the table and sat down next to him. His stomach seemed empty, but she didn't want him to choke on his own vomit if he decided he wasn't done being sick. She wiped the sweat from his forehead with a piece of sheet.

When their bags were empty, she checked her pip-boy. She removed her own needle, but attached a second bag to Vulpes' tube. He muttered at her, but otherwise remained still for almost an hour.

"Where... where is she?" he asked suddenly.

"I'm right next to you."

"She's gone," he said despondently. He tried to roll over onto his arm, but Six pushed him back down. He didn't seem to notice. "I sent her away. She floated away from me."

Six realized he wasn't talking about her. He must be talking about Andromeda, or her mother. Vulpes knew that Six met his daughter, obviously; he sent her to do it. But he still refused to talk about it.

It probably was a breach of trust to use his current mental state to dig for information he didn't want to share, but so was drugging him with Med-X he surely didn't want. And she didn't think he would be worried about damaging her trust if their situations were reversed. Besides, she was most likely saving his life, even if he never admitted it. She deserved something for her troubles.

That was probably enough rationalizations.

"Why did you send her away?" she asked.

He looked at Six wildly, then seemed to calm down. "You're safe," he said.

"Yes, I'm safe," she replied with a smile.

"The child, she must be protected. She is ours. She mustn't stay," he said.

"Why not?"

He sighed heavily. "Servillia. She said so."

"Why did she say that?"

"Wouldn't like it. I don't know. Servillia liked it. I thought she did. I know."

"Servillia is Andy-romeda's mother?" she said, wincing.

"She died for her. Mother's sacrifice."

"How?"

"Carmenta took her. Carmenta told her, the prophecy. She was an oracle, you know," he told her seriously.

"Was she?"

"Yes."

Six floundered. What else could she ask him? He wouldn't be like this for much longer.

"Did you love Servillia?" she asked, and winced. This was really crossing a line now. But he probably wouldn't remember.

He looked at her. His eyes were slightly unfocused. "Love?"

"Did you love her?" she tried again.

"She loved everything. Loved. Always. She loved me? What... I think... I think..."

His eyes focused suddenly. "I think you are nosy."

She snorted in amusement. "Nosy?"

"Yes, nosy, nosing into business you have no business in," he told her.

She raised her hands in surrender. "Alright, don't answer the question."

"No questions are answered," he said, staring up at the ceiling. "Gods giveth, and gods taketh away. They don't explain."

"Neither do you," she muttered.

His eyes whipped back to her. "Neither do _you_," he said. "You run around. Like you have the luck of the gods on your side. But I don't think you do," he whispered confidentially. "I think it's just regular luck. And that runs out, you know." He nodded sagely. He even tapped his temple with his forefinger. She giggled at his serious expression.

"What happens then?" she pressed.

"What happens then?" He looked at her like she was stupid. "Bombs. They explode, then." He leaned toward her. "What do you think happened here?"

"Tell me."

"Ulysses bombed them. He hade nuke- nuke-you-ler missiles locked on long 15 for _ages_. I told him not to. I _told_ him machines, you can't trust them. He should _know._"

"Ulysses did this?" Six asked, shocked. It made sense, though. The silo was the only place she knew of that had this capability.

"It's fine," said Vulpes, waving a hand. "He got her out before the bombs went off. He took her to Primm. Hopeville had a courier, but Primm has more toys. She wanted a new toy."

"Did she," Six said flatly. She didn't want to talk about Hopeville.

"Yes. And when he heard the bombs go off - everyone heard it - he kept her safe while he looked for the Courier who killed them." He looked over at her. "Ulysses is a good man. I don't like him. Well. He's a good man, though. Pays his debts."

"Yeah," she said.

His eyes widened a little, but they were still unfocused. It gave him a strange, crazed look. "I don't think you did it, Courier. You set off the bomb, but you didn't kill them."

"Thank you, Vulpes."

"But who can say? You can't. And you're the only one who can."

She sighed. She was tiring of this version of Vulpes. Perhaps it was better he kept his secrets to himself.

"Go to sleep, boss," she said.

He tried to grab her arm, but missed. "You watch for ghouls?"

He surprised a laugh out of her. "I watch for ghouls," she agreed. "Of course. Don't you trust me?"

"Trust. Yes. Keep the ghosts away. Only the ones we need." He closed his eyes and was still. Six rolled her eyes.

They both remained quiet for a long time. Vulpes slept, and Six thought.

"We don't get to decide that, Vulpes," she said finally. "That right belongs to the ghosts."

* * *

Six looked up from her text when Vulpes started groaning. She glanced up at the bag of Radaway - it was empty. She silently cursed. She should have taken it down as soon as it was dry. It might've made this conversation easier.

He rolled over and started dry-heaving again. Six walked around him and pulled the needle out of his arm.

"Ow! What are you doing?" he wheezed. "I told you I didn't want any of that old-world poison. Look what you've done to me."

"You did that to yourself," she said.

He grumbled. Something like, 'I didn't do that, you did it, you stupid profligate.'

"This is what happens to you when you get too much radiation." He fixed her with a slightly bleary, but entirely menacing glare. "Radiation is an old-world problem. Don't you think you might need old-world medicine to fix it?"

"Cave fungus works just as well."

"Do we have any cave fungus? Besides, that's all Radaway is. Concentrated cave fungus."

He coughed painfully. It rather sounded like, 'Bullshit', but Six decided to ignore that.

"Anyway, do you have any theories on who irradiated the Long 15 in the first place?" she asked innocently.

Vulpes wiped his mouth on his sleeve. "I need to check with some other sources first, but I believe it was an accident, not an assault by the NCR."

She tried not to grin. "You think Ulysses is getting sloppy?"

He turned to her quickly. "Why would you say that?" he asked warily.

Six shrugged. "He lives near the only missile silo I know of," she answered.

"I suppose it isn't a huge leap for you, then; even with your limited cognitive abilities."

She scoffed. "You should be thanking me for returning you to your own cognitive abilities. You were halfway to becoming a ghoul before I fixed you." She smiled at him.

He, predictably, did not thank her. "Go to Ulysses. Find out what happened." He stood, swaying only slightly.

"Why don't you go? You could spend some time... visiting," she said.

He started pacing. Whether due to stress or simply to make sure his legs still worked after the Radaway, Six wasn't sure. She was a little impressed, though. He was recovering well. "I don't have the time," he said. "I must return to Caesar-"

"What the point of returning when you don't have an answer?"

He glared at her. "If you'd care to exercise your _cognitive abilities_ on the situation, you'd realize that what Ulysses tells you will have no bearing on what I tell Caesar. He doesn't know Ulysses is close by. It is information he does not need."

Six conceded the point. "But you could see her," she pressed.

Vulpes didn't answer right away. "Me visiting Primm will only bring danger. I cannot take that risk. You will go to the Divide. You will get a report from Ulysses. And you will tell Caesar you were investigating a radiation anomaly found by your pip-boy, and that you found nothing. I will return to the camp now and give my own report."

Six gave up. She knew when she was beaten.

"And," he added, "if you ever give me Med-X and try to probe into my mind again, I will kill you."

"Um," she said, "I mean, well... fair enough."

* * *

Six was exceedingly grateful that Ulysses was in Primm, and not the Divide, when she arrived. She hadn't been looking forward to fighting her way down the Couriers' Mile again.

"What happened?" she asked him. The Nash's were over at the Vikki and Vance. Andromeda was happily playing in the other room with a new doll Six brought her.

"Nash had this eyebot. I dislike the machines, but he asked me to take a look at it. I owe him," he said in a monotone, "for taking Andy in."

"Right. So then what?"

He didn't answer that. "I'm surprised Vulpes didn't come himself."

She gave him a look. "I sure don't have any answers," she said.

"I needed parts," he continued. "I should have left it here. I_ knew..._ But I wasn't sure which parts..." he sighed. "I took it back to the Divide. I got it working. And just like last time. It spoke. To another eyebot. Your eyebot." He eyed her, but without heat. "I don't blame you. I know you, now. It is the machines that are evil. Their pre-war routines. It set off the missiles. Missiles I pointed at the Long 15 when... Doesn't really matter. The road is gone. At least, for now."

Six nodded. She agreed. The mechanics weren't very important. The bombs went off. It was an accident. It wasn't her fault, or Ulysses'. And it wasn't the NCR. That was all that mattered. Any further guilt Ulysses wanted, that was his business, and his alone.

"At least it was only NCR soldiers that suffered," she said.

She couldn't tell much of his expression behind his mask. "Perhaps," was all he said.

"Vulpes isn't angry. I don't think," she amended. "He won't tell Caesar, anyway. I don't know what this means for the Legion, but you at least aren't in trouble."

"Not from the Legion, no. I never doubted that. I am too_ important_ to Inculta to lose. I could do anything and if it meant safety for his blood, he would leave me alone. It is only myself I have to fear."

Six didn't know what to say. She could sympathize, but that didn't mean she had any words of comfort. Perhaps she knew too well the burdens a person could bear, and that was why she had no pleasantries. She wondered if she should put a hand on his arm or something.

"I do not think I will return to the Divide. I will watch this passage, but I will not walk the Mile again. Too much history, now; even for me."

They sat in silence for a long time.

Eventually, Andromeda came up to them. "Six!" she said. "Play dolls!" She held the doll out to Six's face and waved it back and forth.

Six took the distraction gratefully.

* * *

She shifted her backpack, and looked towards the East, but she didn't walk. Not yet. Ulysses stood next to her. She wanted to tell him to let go of his guilt, but how could she when she carried so much of her own? She wanted to thank him for taking care of Andromeda, but he didn't need her thanks for that. What she really wanted, she couldn't describe.

"I follow your advice," she said, "from your note. Or try to, at least. There's only so much I can do."

Ulysses nodded. "One road at a time. A blessing," he said, "or a curse." He looked west, toward the Divide. "There are some roads, though, that should never be walked."

She sighed. "You don't know, do you," she said bitterly. "Until you walk it."

He laughed, without joy. "Wise words. A fork is a fork. Perhaps I am done walking for a time." He smiled at her. "I think Andy needs more than the aging Nashes in her life."

She looked away. She didn't want to hear Ulysses say that. You always had to walk the roads. That he might stop made her uneasy, she didn't know why. But if he were taking a rest from his travels, it wasn't her place to criticize. Instead, she said, "Don't turn her into a warrior, if that's not what she wants."

"You have a problem with warriors? You, Courier?"

"No," she admitted. "But everyone should choose their own path. Whether to destruction or salvation, right? We all choose our own." She tried a smile. "Perhaps _that_ is our blessing."

He looked west again. "And perhaps that is our curse."

Fair point, Six thought.  
-


	18. Part II - Ch 1 - Gods and Masters

A/N: The beginning of Part II! I'll keep updating inside of the Part I framework, though, so you guys don't miss out on notifications. I like the formatting over at AO3 ( ) better. If you use that site as well, I'd recommend reading this story there. My penname is 'majortom'. But for all those who don't, have no fear! I'll keep updating , too. Even though the formatting at AO3 is really just _so_ much better.

* * *

The night was dark, but clear. The moon was a sliver in the sky, the stars numbering in the thousands. A whippoorwill trilled softly, and the fire crackled.

"Their religion is the key," Vulpes was saying. "If you can find a way to convince them that their gods and our gods are one in the same-"

"I don't know if I can argue that when I don't believe in their gods _or _our gods."

The Daughters of Hecate. Six's first real assignment as they made their way south down the 95 and the 2nd Road, encountering the deserted city of Santa Ana. The tribe of women lived outside the ruins, building their own adobe structures. Industriousness aside, they were led by a certifiably insane leader who thought herself a goddess. There were about fifty female warriors, who in turn controlled two other, more typical tribes, and also commanded a sect of vicious males called the Hounds. They were currently in conflict with two other groups in the area, and it was her job to assimilate them all.

After a long silence, Vulpes said quietly, "I hope you don't say that to anyone besides myself."

She scoffed. "I know how seriously some in the Legion take that stuff. Really, though, a hundred gods or so, fighting and bickering with each other, messing around with humans. I mean, it's just unbelievable."

Vulpes passed her a can of luke-warm beans and asked, "Is it really more unbelievable than anything else?"

"Yes," Six said. "First off, to read these old stories it sounds like the gods never got tired of coming down to Earth to talk to people. Or kill them. Or rape them and have little half god babies. Why did they stop?"

Vulpes shrugged. "Caesar claims to be son of Mars. Who says they've stopped?"

"Do the gods talk to you, Vulpes?" Six asked, mock concern in her voice. "Do I need to take you to Arcade?"

He poked the fire listlessly.

"She knew she was going to die," he said suddenly. Six didn't say anything. It seemed the conversation was taking a different turn. "I was never, shall we say, devout. I wasn't sure that the Gods cared about the big people, much less the little ones. Slaves. Caesar said he was chosen by Mars, but I believed he only said that to impress the ignorant. Get them to fall in line. I still don't know if that's true or not. But she knew she was going to die. I believe that. I knew she was hiding something."

Six restrained an urge to sigh. Vulpes was always a little confusing, but when he talked about Servillia it was often impossible to follow. It probably wasn't one of the conversations he practiced. Not the words he chose deliberately to manipulate. Though she couldn't be sure of that, either. Vulpes played his games on many levels.

There was nothing for it; she was intrigued either way. She restrained the urge to sigh. "Do you want to tell me the whole story this time?" she asked. Even if it was manipulation, it would probably be at least mostly true. Vulpes didn't lie when the truth served him equally well.

"She had a dream," he began, almost reluctantly. "Carmenta, a goddess of fertility, came to her and told her she was pregnant, and that the child would be a girl. That... the girl, Andromeda, would not be happy living in the Legion. That much Servillia told me." Six tactfully did not say that no girl would ever be happy living the way the Legion usually made them, Servillia most likely included. "But she was keeping something from me," he continued, "I could tell. I did not press her, though. Perhaps I should have. Wouldn't have made a difference. She died, in childbirth."

He jabbed at the fire again. A log fell over and sent a cloud of sparks into the air.

"I learned later that Carmenta is also a goddess of oracles. Everything else, I could have dismissed. She had suspected she was with child. She had a dream about a fertility goddess she learned of through the priestesses. She was fearful of the life her potential daughter would have. But I cannot explain how she knew that she was going to die. In the old myths, Andromeda was sacrificed by her parents. Servillia knew that this time, she would be the sacrifice." He looked over at her and smiled humorlessly. "Hearing it aloud, it does seem weak evidence. I suppose she could have been hiding anything, and dying in childbirth was just a random event. However, I do not think so. What else could the secret have been? I think perhaps the Gods do appear, sometimes, to some people. Maybe the answer is that we don't tell people about it as much as they did back then. And as to Caesar's bloodline, well. I cannot personally attest to that."

Six wasn't sure what to say. She never was. "I'm sorry for your loss," she said, and winced.

"Thank you."

She didn't know if she should ask, but she did anyway. "Did you ever visit your daughter?"

"Yes. Not in some time. It was hard to get away, to be sure I wouldn't be seen. And now we are too far south to make the journey. I haven't seen her since she learned to talk."

"Must be hard. Knowing she's out there and not being with her."

"I suppose." The fire spit out an ember. Vulpes stamped it out. "I wouldn't know what to say to her," he said, with a hint of anger. "The world isn't ready for her yet." Six smiled at him. He glared at her. "Which is why you need to focus on the task at hand. Pacify this tribe, preferably without bloodshed. There are over fifty women already skilled in battle. It is the perfect opportunity for you to build your own numerus."

"Jeeze, you're even more ambitious than I am. I'm already the first female Frumentarius, give me a break, huh?"

"That happened months ago."

"You're never going to be satisfied with my successes, are you? In a few months you'll be sitting next to me, saying, 'I can't believe you aren't in command of a cohors yet, you're shirking your responsibilities...'"

"Once you have a legio of your own I might back off a little," he shot back.

Six smiled at him again, and this time he smiled back, albeit a thin one. She decided not to ask the other question she was pondering. If Vulpes' daughter didn't want to be a warrior, there would be plenty of time to find that out later. No need to upset him again tonight.

"So. Convince them we have the same gods," Six said, trying to turn the conversation away from dead lovers and lost children. "I suppose it wouldn't be too hard in theory. I talked with Arcade on it last time we were at the camp." He raised an eyebrow. Six repressed a smirk. He still got pissy every time she mentioned the doctor. It was a source of great amusement.

"Did you, really."

"Yes. I'm not stupid, you know. It's clear their religion is the only thing holding the bands of tribes together. And apparently Hecate is a Greek goddess. Which is pretty much the same thing as our gods already."

"Hmmph."

"Well, it is. I set Arcade researching what Hecate's Roman counterpart might be. Hopefully he'll have something for me when we arrive tomorrow. Are you done with this?" she asked, gesturing to the fire.

"Yes. If you already had all this in motion, why must you argue with me about it?" he asked, irritated.

"I don't want to do it that way," she answered, putting out the fire. "I would rather convince them to join us through some other argument, but I couldn't think of one. I hoped you would." She sighed. "Seems like the religious angle is the best one, though."

"It certainly is. I don't know why you would even consider using another."

They settled down on their bedrolls on either side of the doused fire and Six stared up at the stars. A long time ago Vulpes tried to show her the patterns that formed the Gods in the heavens, but she never could see them.

* * *

The walk was long, the Legion camp being over ten miles out of Santa Ana, but the terrain was mostly flat and easy. When they reached the camp, Vulpes went to deliver a report on the local tribes to Caesar, and Six made her way to see Arcade.

"Welcome back, milady," he said dryly as she entered the tent that functioned both as Arcade's sleeping quarters and a small clinic.

"Hello, Arcade," she said, ignoring his sardonicism. He often said such things now that she was a member of the Frumentarii. "Did you get anywhere on our little research project? And have you been working on your Spanish?"

He gestured to the table, covered in books and notes. "Si, Profesora. Yo soy muy inteligente. I found a little bit on the Greek Hecate, and some references to a Roman Hekate. But there is a goddess called Trivia. I think that one is your best bet. Magic and underworld and all that stuff Hecate was famous for." Six settled into the chair and stared at the table, a little overwhelmed on where to begin. "There are some sketches of her, too. She'll be easier to impersonate if you know what clothes she wears."

"I don't want to impersonate her," she said. "Their leader is the one who calls herself Hecate. I'm just looking into other options for them. They won't give up their religion completely, and why should they?"

"So noble, you are. But how can you gain their trust without lying to them?"

Six sighed. "Yeah. That's always the problem, isn't it."

Arcade gave her a look, but she ignored it.

* * *

Six looked up from the text. "What's this word, here, Arcade?" she asked, pointing.

Arcade glanced down. "Dogs."

"So she had dogs with her? I could get a dog."

Arcade rolled his eyes. "No, it says that she was invisible except to dogs. When the dogs barked, that's how you knew she was coming."

Six was disappointed. "I could get one, anyway. Might help."

"I thought you didn't want to impersonate a God," Arcade remarked. She grinned sheepishly. "You just want an excuse to get a dog, don't you?"

"Might help," she said airily, and turned the page.

"The Greek Hecate had dogs," he supplied. "They eventually turned into the Hounds of Hell. I suppose it's logical to think that the Roman Trivia may have had dogs. There aren't so many books on mythology as there used to be."

"The priestesses must have books," Six said.

"Where do you think I got these?" he asked.

She looked up at him, shocked. "They gave you their books? You?"

"Well, no, _your holiness_. Not lowly me. They gave Caesar their books," he said, not meeting her eyes.

Her eyebrows climbed. "You stole books from Caesar to help me with this?"

"No, of course not. I don't steal books from him. I don't need to. I asked him if I could look at the priestesses' books, and he got them for me."

Six marked her page carefully and closed the text. "Arcade. Is there something you want to tell me about your relationship with Caesar?"

"No! Shut up! I knew you would say that. Caesar is fond of me, yes. In the same way you will be fond of your dog. It's nothing like... like _that_, and frankly it disgusts me to think about it."

"Alright, alright, sorry," she laughed. "I was just teasing."

"Well, don't. I might vomit. And besides, you shouldn't anyway. If he heard that I'm, well... I don't know if his _affection _runs deep enough to not have me up on a cross."

Six's smile faded and she turned back to the books. She wasn't sure, either.

* * *

Remus was a reasonably well trained dog, but when he saw that neither Six nor Vulpes would punish him for getting too far away, he ran back and forth across the desert joyously in front of them.

"Caesar will only give us a little more time. He is still impressed by your ability to communicate with these tribes, but he thinks your desire to focus on the female warriors is both self-indulgent and troubling."

"He said that?"

"He said self-indulgent."

"Even after you told him that the Daughters of Hecate are actually in control of most of the tribes in the area?"

"He is skeptical that that is the case."

Six kicked a rock. Remus, who had been padding his way back to them, was startled and barked at it. She could see why Antony didn't mind parting with him.

"Doesn't matter," she said.

"Why not?"

"I'm going to be their leader in about a week. Then I will be in control of four of the six tribes."

He eyed her askance. "That is a bold statement. And you mean Caesar will be their leader, surely."

It was Six's turn to eye him. "I know you can't speak with them very well, but after all I have told you do you really think the Daughters of Hecate will welcome a man's leadership?"

"Certainly not. But that is what will happen."

"Caesar is the head of the Legion, but you are the leader of the Frumentarii."

Vulpes nodded, conceding the point. "So how did you come up with this new timeline?"

"I did a lot of research last night, and I have a plan. I want to get a little closer to some of the other tribeswomen first, but soon I will kill Hecate and become their new leader." She smiled at him. "That's the problem with revering your leader as a god. If someone comes along and kills them, you're kind of shit out of luck."

Vulpes didn't look convinced. "You researched all night and came up with 'kill their leader'?" He scoffed. "You think it will be that easy? Caesar claims to be God-born, but if someone killed him do you not think that person would be up on a cross the next day?"

"Because Caesar's not an idiot. He has a line of succession. Lanius isn't religious; he wouldn't think that anyone who managed to kill Caesar was worthy of leadership. He'd just see his own power being taken away. Hecate is insane, she doesn't operate that way. She doesn't have a second in command. I think she might actually believe she is immortal."

Vulpes started laughing. He stopped walking and had to hold on to his side.

"What? _What? _What is so damn funny, Vulpes?" Remus walked back over to them. He whined at Vulpes and started barking. Six could commiserate.

"But she is no match for _you_, clearly," he finally got out. "The almighty Courier has no fear facing immortal Goddesses."

She rolled her eyes. "I'm not religious."

"Indeed," he chuckled. "Such a change from the other day. You were tying yourself in knots looking for a way to not lie to these women. Now you have no problem setting yourself up as a false god."

"That's not what I'm going to do," she said, teeth gritting. "I will show them that the woman they are following _now _is a false god, because she will be defeated by a _mortal_."

"So why the dog?"

"I think it will make them more comfortable."

"By drawing parallels between yourself and their goddess."

"I suppose if they think I may be _helped_ by their goddess, it will give them more reason to follow me instead of disbanding."

"Only a little lie, then."

Six didn't say anything, just continued walking. Remus loped beside her, glad to be moving again. She didn't want to lie. Lying caused her a lot of trouble in the past. But it was hard to be an honest Frumentarius, she thought ruefully. She couldn't see any other way to ensure the Daughters of Hecate would come willingly to the Legion. All she could really do is deny that she was a god, beat Hecate in a fair fight, and let the Daughters draw their own conclusions.

And hope that her very large little lie didn't come back to bite her on the ass some day.


	19. The False Prophet

A/N: Short chapter, Sorry. Need to get everything set up. And unless you're fluent in Spanish, you might want to open up Google translate right about now. And just so you're aware, Six is NOT entirely fluent. Any mistakes Six makes are intentional (nothing to do with spelling, so google translate should still work). If you ARE fluent in Spanish, and notice mistakes that are NOT made by Six, please let me know and I will correct it.

* * *

Yvana was not a warrior. The best Six could tell, she was an administrator, former midwife. She was important, though, and someone Six wanted to have on her side if things went pear-shaped.

Six silently thanked Raul for teaching her as much Spanish as he did. At the time she thought it was a fun way to pass evenings by the fire. She never thought it would come in handy. She framed it not as a different goddess, but rather the same one in a different language. Lost holy texts, but still all the same people. Which, she reasoned, could almost be the truth. Just the difference of Greek to Roman. She might not even be lying.

Just manipulating. Vulpes taught her well, it seemed.

Yvana read quietly, occasionally reaching down to scratch Remus' ears. It was lucky she had a basis in Latin. Six wouldn't have liked to pull double translation duty. She seemed enthralled. When Six asked if she would show the new texts to Hecate, she hesitated.

"Claro que sí. Ella será feliz de ver los libros perdidos." She paused. "Quizás... voy a llevarlos a las Hijas Seleccione primero." She looked up at her sharply. "En caso de que son falsos."

"Los libros es la verdad," Six said. "Pero si, vas a las Hijas si queres."

Yvana frowned. Six restrained a smile. Hecate would find out what she was doing eventually, of course. But the longer until that moment, the better.

* * *

Everything was going well. As far as she could tell the Daughters were eating up the new books she brought on Trivia and Hecate, and keeping it from their leader. The Daughters came to her with questions that she answered with calm and a bit of mystery, and also a hint of insurrection. Tomorrow she would put the next part of her plan into motion.

* * *

It began simply. Six asked Yvana if Hecate had been told about the "lost books" yet. Suggested quietly that she should be made aware that she was preaching an incomplete, nay, _false_ gospel. Six had sown enough rebellion in her teaching of the books that Yvana didn't correct her, just looked nervous.

"No, no puedo hablar con ella. Ella... es peligrosa. Ella me podría matar."

"Pero alguien tengo hablar con ella," she said, purposefully using the wrong word.

Yvana bit her lip. Then asked Six to do it. Six bowed her head in acceptance so Yvana wouldn't see her smile. It may be shady work, but success always felt good.

* * *

Six strode into the inner sanctum of Hecate's shrine to herself, Remus at her heels. He growled. Another growl answered him. Smoke permeated the room. A tall pillar dominated the center, and strange assortments of bowls and vials and candles littered the tables and shelves. There was a thick, heavy perfume that made her slightly dizzy. Anyone would go mad if they lived in this, Six thought.

"Hecate! Dónde estás?"

High-pitched giggling was all that replied, and more dogs growling.

"Tu es una falsa diosa," she said loudly. Some of the Daughters followed her in. She had a brief moment of panic - would they fight her for saying that so bluntly? - but no, they stood mute and simply watched.

Battle of the Gods, Six thought darkly.

"Tu ha estado susurrando, poco mortal. Te oí," Hecate called from somewhere in the mist.

"Habla no más mentiras, Hecate, o te matar," Six declared.

More giggling. At her Spanish skills, or simply from insanity, Six didn't know. Hecate emerged from behind the stone pillar. Her face was painted with colors and her clothes looked like layered rags. She didn't look like a fighter. The three dogs that followed her did. Remus barked loudly at them, hackles raised. Six felt grateful to Arcade - though she had rebuffed his initial suggestion of dressing like Trivia, she had actually made some alterations to her clothes. She definitely looked more sane than Hecate, at any rate, who likely never saw a picture of the goddess she modeled herself on.

"Tú eres el que va a morir, mortal!" Hecate cried, and lunged toward her. Six was very happy at that; she was unsure that her Spanish would have held up for much longer.

Hecate threw off her upper robes. Underneath she wore a form-fitting set of armor and had several long, dangerous looking blades. Six grasped the machete from the holster under her skirt and held it defensively.

Hecate moved like a woman possessed, which, Six admitted, was a remote possibility. For the first time in a long time, she felt unsure of her success in a fight. Before long she had several gashes on her arms, and she had yet to lay a hit on the woman. Remus, the dear thing, was doing much better. He had already put down one of Hecate's dogs, and a second one didn't look long for this world. She was very glad she brought him; she didn't fancy fighting Hecate and three bloodthirsty hounds all at once.

In an attempt to escape Hecate's frantic slashing, Six leaped onto a table, upsetting the candles and vials. She kicked a bowl of powder into Hecate's face. She howled as the grit burned her eyes. Six delivered a kick to her nose and sent her sprawling. Now was a good time for some of her rehearsed lines.

"You lied to your followers!" she yelled, jumping from the table. Hecate tried to scramble backwards, still blinded, while Six slashed out with her machete. "You committed the worst heresy! You are a false prophet and now you will pay for your sins!"

"No!" cried Hecate.

She slit Hecate's throat, and she was still. Remus came padding over to her, panting, muzzle soaked in blood. She scratched his ears. "Good dog."

Six turned around to see the shocked faces of the Daughters of Hecate, before they dropped to their knees and put their foreheads on the ground. She then realized that she said the best bits in English. Damn it, she thought.

All in all, it was a perfect success. Even Vulpes couldn't find fault. Six was revered as the new leader of the Daughters. Tomorrow she would have to go argue her case before Lord Caesar. But that was tomorrow. Tonight, she slept peacefully.

The night was dark. The moon was nearly new, but he could see just fine. He watched the Legion camp through his scope. He hadn't seen the Courier at all since the two of them arrived outside Santa Ana last week. That was just fine. She'd be back. He was patient. And in the meantime, there were plenty of other targets.

-  
(1200)


	20. Twenty-One

A/N: Less Spanish in this chapter, but you still will encounter some.

* * *

"Just calm down, Six," Vulpes said. He was getting irritated, Six could tell. She couldn't help it.

"We should have left them in Santa Ana. We shouldn't have brought them with us. What if Caesar enslaves them all?"

"He will not. And furthermore, what would you do if he did? Tell them to run away?" Six chewed her bottom lip. "You are more nervous than I have ever seen you."

"Well, this time it's not just _our _lives on the line, is it?" she snapped.

Vulpes looked bemused. "Nice to know you value my life," he said.

"You signed up for this. They didn't." He raised an eyebrow at her, but she barely noticed. "I lied to them and manipulated them and if they end up dead or enslaved it's on _my head_ and I _know_ there isn't anything else I can do, I _know_ I'm doing all I can to protect them, so that's why I've _done_ all the things I've done, and I'm not going to go _back_ on any of it now, but it _still_-"

"So please, for the love of Mars, shut up, then."

"I know. I _know_ I should shut up. I _know_ this useless babbling isn't doing anyone any good. I _know_ there's only one road in front of me. I _know-_"

"So help me, Six, I will shoot you in the head if you do not stop talking."

"Doesn't work on me, you know," she said testily.

"It might work if I leave you to rot in this cursed hot desert."

"My apostles would skin you alive."

"They certainly wouldn't. They would revere me as their new god." He smirked at her. "Very fickle, your apostles."

Six ignored this. "What are you going to say to Caesar?"

"I am going to say nothing. This is your mission."

"You're the head of the Frumentarii. I'll make my bid, obviously, but afterward he'll probably send me away and as his trusted advisor it will be your duty to advise."

"And I will. Stop worrying about things you can't control and concentrate on what _you_ are going to say. And then tell me what it is, for Mars' sake, before you say it to Caesar."

* * *

A half mile before they reached the Legion camp, they left the Daughters behind. Six put Ruth in charge. Yvana was an administrator, after all, and Ruth was a senior warrior.

She and Vulpes entered Caesar's tent. And of course, as always happened around Caesar, her carefully planned speech didn't make it past her lips.

"I see you have good news, Vulpes, or you wouldn't have brought Six to deliver it," he remarked. Vulpes simply nodded respectfully.

"Er- ave, true to Caesar," Six said.

Caesar waved his hand dismissively. "Alright, tell me. You got the women, didn't you."

"Yes, Lord Caesar."

He raised an eyebrow. "And I'm sure you didn't appeal to their desire to be laundry slaves."

Six floundered. "Ah, well, no. Lord. I didn't use that tactic."

He smirked. "And I'm also sure you didn't convince them to pay homage to the true Caesar, either."

Six swallowed. "They are true followers of the Roman gods, my Lord. After I explained it to them," she added. "They will follow those favored by the Gods. Yourself, of course, as their ultimate authority."

"Indeed. They know this already?"

"Yes. Well," she hedged, "they might need some time, the language barrier and all, but-"

He held up a hand to stop her. He stared hard at her for a long time, then said, "Anyone else, I would accuse them of building up their own loyal army inside of my own."

It took a moment for Six to understand that he really was accusing her of that. "Lord! No, I - that is not my aim at all! I simply meant to say-"

"I know exactly what you are going to say. Or rather, what you mean. You needed to treat this tribe specially. They wouldn't go for a male leader, so you gave them a female one. You couldn't use force against them, because they are a small group already, and you needed as many strong, able bodied warriors to bring before me in an effort to constitute your own female unit. A few broken, bloodied women would have gone straight to the slave barracks."

She wanted to glare at Vulpes. He was supposed to prepare him. Damn terrible job he did, she thought angrily. And still, he didn't speak up to defend her.

"Are you going to tell me I'm wrong?" Caesar asked.

Six straightened her posture and said, "No."

He cocked his head to the side, surprised. "No? Indeed. Care to elaborate on that?"

In for a penny, she thought. "Everything you've said is true, my Lord. But I fail to see how any of it is disloyal to you. To acquire new tribes Frumentarii often use tactics such as these in an effort to gain as many well-bodied soldiers as possible. It was only to that end that I have completed the mission this way. Now that we have the Daughters of Hecate, we have the Hounds of Hecate, a tribe of fierce men that are devoted to them. We also have the Maricopa tribe, who number in the hundreds and have much skill with metalwork and pottery. We also have the Papago tribe, who have many fine warriors as well. If we had destroyed the Daughters, we would have none of them. It will be an exceptional advantage to have them, who know the local area, when we engage the Lipan and the Tarahuma."

Caesar considered this. "Quite a boon, if what you say is true. All these tribes are set to join us?"

"Emissaries have been sent. The former leaders of the Daughters assure me that they follow them in everything."

"That remains to be seen. I doubt so many people are so loyal to a band of women." He paused. "But if they are even simply allies, they would not take kindly to the destruction of the tribe."

"Nor, Lord, to their enslavement," she said.

He raised an eyebrow at her, and she bowed her head. "I admit," he said, "that I am curious to see the strength of these women. I have never encountered such a tribe." He paused again. Six didn't look up. "After all, it wouldn't be the first time I was surprised by a woman," he said quietly. He clapped his hands together suddenly. "This is what we will do. Fifty of my strongest legionaries against your women. If twenty-five or more remain, I will give them to you to train. On a probationary basis. If they don't seem to be as extraordinary as Vulpes made them out to be, or the other tribes abandon them, or if having them causes any trouble in my camp, it will be your responsibility."

Six fought the urge to smile madly at him. "Sic, Lord Caesar."

"Now leave us." Six turned and walked toward the door immediately. "Vulpes, I need to draw your attention to a different matter. Somewhere nearby..."

* * *

She explained, with Arcade's help, that a final test remained before the Daughters' inclusion. They weren't well pleased until Yvana stood and said, "Estos son los elegidos por las Diosas! Debemos ser muy afortunados de probarnos a nosotros mismos con Ella!" and Ruth joined her, shouting, "Debemos tener miedo? Este es nuestro derecho de nacimiento!" Six wasn't entirely sure what they said, but the rest of them cheered and shouted and there were no more complaints.

She consulted with Arcade, and pulled Yvana to the side. "Tu no es una luchador. Tu puede mantenerse a salvo de la batalla."

Yvana smiled at her, but shook her head. "Gracias. Pero si tengo que ser un mártir, bueno, está escrito."

She walked away. Six sighed. Yvana was easily the most educated. She didn't want to lose her. But she did admire her spirit. Six pointed out Ruth to Arcade and said, "Tell her to keep Yvana safe."

She walked back to her tent to consult with Vulpes on the matter of the other tribes.

* * *

The next morning dawned bright and, as always, hot. It was the day of the battle.

She went down to the edge of the Legion camp, where her Spartans were staying. Ruth already had them up and ready, and at Six's arrival had them gather for her.

"Gracias, amica," she said. "Así," she shouted. "Qué puedo decir? Estás listos?"

A triumphant roar went up from the warriors. Six smiled.

They lined up in the desert. The Legionaries, a good distance away, were doing the same. Fifteen across, three deep, five extra front and center. Six had hers get in a line seven across, seven deep, with Yvana stuck in the middle. Ruth nodded her approval from the front row.

Otho fired a shot, and the two forces ran at each other.

As she predicted, the male forces easily surrounded the Spartans, cutting down their effectiveness as half her soldiers were trapped behind their comrades. But as long as the Spartans could hold their line, it should minimize the female casualties. They may have equal sized forces, but this battle must be fought as if they were vastly outnumbered. It wasn't enough to win. She had to win at a high margin, or they might as well all die today.

Six watched with numbed horror every time she saw a woman go down. Another life on her conscience. But even Arcade couldn't fault her actions today. Small steps toward equality.

Twenty-one. Twenty-one of her Spartans died.

* * *

"If you don't want to kill her, why are we here?"

"I do want to kill her. Not yet. Why do you care? There are plenty of men in red to shoot."

There was silence for a minute.

"That was weird, what they did today. Bunch of men fighting a bunch of women. Women won, too."

"You helped."

The first man shrugged. "Seemed like a good opportunity to put some Legion down."

The second man didn't respond.

-  
(1600)


	21. Trivia

A/N: Less and less Spanish as we go along. Also. Graphic death below. It's bad. It's sad. Be prepared for the feels.

* * *

Six was teaching them English ("La Lengua Sagrada," they called it, ever since they heard her shout it at Hecate before she killed her), but it was a slow process, even with Arcade helping.

"Who controla la cría?" asked Yvana.

"Who controls the what?" Six asked.

"Por los niños?"

"What? The children? The Priestesses." She turned to Arcade. "I don't know the word for 'priestess'," she said.

"I don't think that's what she's asking," he replied with a smirk.

"Um. El sexo. Por los niños," Yvana said again.

"What, like breeding?" she asked, startled. Arcade laughed. A number of things about their society suddenly made sense to Six.

"Ah. Um. Me. I control. Is very important. Only me. Solomente yo."

Yvana nodded.

"También, if any man tries tener sexo contigo, matalo," Six said loudly.

Ruth laughed. "Claro que sí."

She smiled and turned to Arcade. "Keep working with them on their English, alright? I have some things to check on."

"I do have a life, you know," he said.

She raised an eyebrow. "Do you?" she asked teasingly.

His smile turned to a sneer. "Well, now that you put it that way, _master_, your wish is my command."

She sighed and said quietly, "You know, by now I bet Caesar would make you a member of the Legion. If you'd just-"

"Thank you for your advice, Six Inculta," he bit out, "but I'd rather die. Run along. I'll teach your new disciples how to speak the holy language."

Six reached out toward him, but he turned and walked away.

* * *

_The Daughters of Hecate still await your response. You have pledged to serve the Goddess with your life, and your absence is noted. The Maricopa and Papago tribes still stand with us. Send a response with this messenger and prepare yourself for travel. We march on the Lipan in two weeks._

_-Six_

She crossed that out and wrote _Six Inculta. _Then grimaced and tried _Yvana. _Still unhappy, she put a line through that and wrote _Trivia._

* * *

Six was working on translating her missive to the Hounds of Hecate when Vulpes entered. She was about to ask what name or title she should use, because 'Six' didn't seem very impressive when their last boss was a self-proclaimed Goddess. She was forestalled by the unmistakable sound of a rifle being fired at some distance. Not an uncommon noise around a military camp (there were always patrols keeping the radscorpions away, which suited Six just fine; she was allergic to antivenom), but this one was accompanied by a heavy thump directly outside the tent. Vulpes pulled his 9mm and Six grabbed her 12.7 from the table.

They crouched on either side of the doorway of the tent. Vulpes pushed the flap open a few inches with his weapon and surveyed the area. When he was done, Six did the same on the other side.

They carefully exited the tent. Six checked the man on the ground while Vulpes kept watch. The legionary was dead.

"It was a sniper. The tribe to the south has better firepower, do you think it's-"

"It is useless to speculate on who the culprit is," he said, cutting her off. "That shot was far off, and he put it directly between the eyes. I think..." he looked around at Six and dropped his gun to his side. "I think if the sniper was going to kill us, he would have already. He is probably already moving so we can't track his location."

Six didn't stand, but she did holster her weapon. It wouldn't help her against a sniper. "We should inform Atticus. He needs to up the patrols around the camp."

"It's already been done. This is not the first time the sniper has struck. I will tell Atticus that it isn't enough; however I doubt anything aside from building ten foot walls would be."

She looked back down at the legionary. He was just a recruit, on his way to the mess tent or the latrine. Never saw the end of his life approaching. She wondered if it was better or worse that way. She looked out at the dark, empty desert and shivered.

* * *

Six's mornings were filled with English lessons. Arcade didn't come anymore. Caesar had sent two other Legionaries that spoke Spanish to help her, and also dispatched a few more to teach the other tribes that were assimilating. It was very tiring. At least it meant that by the time afternoon drills arrived, everyone was ready to stop repeating phrases and start hitting each other with machetes for a while.

The Hounds of Hecate had still not sent a response, and what was even more worrying was that the messenger hadn't returned. Six consulted Yvana, who suggested the two go in person to speak with them. Caesar agreed, but sent a chaperone in the form of a Frumentarius named Alerio. Six selected two more Spartans, leaving Ruth in charge of running the drills. And she brought Remus. Ever since he helped her defeat Hecate and her hounds she never let him get too far from her.

The trip was long. The Hounds stayed on the other side of Santa Ana. It was a boring trip without Vulpes, though she supposed that was a good thing. Yvana was picking up on English quickly and it wouldn't do to have her overhear the kinds of disrespectful conversations they usually had.

When they finally reached the Hounds' homestead it was past sunset. They didn't see the smoke until they were almost on top of it.

The flames had long since burned down, but the charred remains of the buildings still smoldered. One of the women became very distressed. Six quickly pulled them all aside.

"Do not let your emotions get the better of you," she said quickly. Yvana translated in a whisper, apparently thinking the woman was too distraught for English. "Be strong. We will find revenge for this act."

The woman tried to pull herself together. Yvana leaned over to Six. "It is Merrin. Her mate was a Hound."

"I guessed as much. But she needs to handle it," she said, sparing a small glance toward Alerio. He was watching with an amused expression. "We cannot show weakness in front of men."

Yvana looked over at Alerio so obviously Six wanted to roll her eyes. Finally, she nodded, and went to go speak to the woman. Six walked over to Alerio.

"Hard as steel killing machines until their boyfriends bite it. Can't say I'm surprised," he commented.

Six didn't punch him in the face. "Looks a few days old. I think we can assume our messenger got caught up in it, though I doubt there's anything left of him to find."

Merrin came up to them. There were still tear marks on her face, but her expression was hard. "Lipans. Lipans did this." She pointed to one remaining wall of a building, where a symbol was painted in what looked like blood. Handprints forming a large X. "We kill them," she finished.

"We will," Six assured her. The Lipans wouldn't come without a fight, so there was no chance that was a lie. "We will."

They hunkered down in an abandoned building half a mile from the site and waited for morning. When it dawned, Merrin was sitting next to Six, staring at her as she woke. It was an uncomfortable way to wake, but it was made even more so when she said, "Lo creo, Trivia. Creo en ti."

* * *

Remus bounded in front, oblivious to the dejected air of the group. For his playful nature, he sure was a good fighter. They would often lose sight of him for twenty minutes, then come across a dead radscorpion or giant rat, and he would have a little more blood on his face. Six smiled and scratched him behind the ears. She didn't know why more people didn't have dogs. Perhaps it would be too much to feed them all.

She reported to Caesar with the information that the Hounds of Hecate were destroyed by a southern tribe. To her surprise, he didn't blame her for it. He took it as read that the Hounds were as good as assimilated and a crime against them was a crime against the Legion. They would be pressing south, soon. First the bloodthirsty Lipans, and on to the next.

* * *

Six valiantly did not put her head down on the table and start snoring. She fought hard to be involved in these meetings; it put her Spartans on an equal footing with the Frumentarii and Praetorians. She was equal to Vulpes Inculta and Lucius. And after the first couple times, fuck, it was it boring.

Provisionally equal, anyway. Her Spartans were still technically on probation, but it was looking good in all directions. The satellite tribes had fallen in line, with the exception of the one that had been slaughtered, and after the battle where they had defeated male legionaries at a margin of almost three to one the other soldiers didn't fuck with them.

Report after report after report. What did she care about the rice levels in the kitchen? She blinked. She was now responsible for feeding thirty people. Maybe she _should_ pay attention to the rice levels. Come to think of it, who had been making sure her Spartans had food? She glanced over at Vulpes, who raised an eyebrow and smirked at her. Bastard. He had probably been waiting to do that for the last four meetings.

"And now on to my favorite topic," Caesar said. "How is this sniper still at large? Can you tell me, Atticus? Aurelius of Phoenix wouldn't have let this continue for so long. Perhaps I should call him from New Vegas to take your place."

"I am raising the number of random patrols, Lord Caesar. He will not evade us for long."

"That's what you said last time. Perhaps we don't need more random patrols, but planned ones. I don't care if you have to get every Legionary to stand in a line and walk the desert, he will be found. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Lord Caesar."

"Last order of business. Vulpes, I want you to get a full report from the men we've acquired as to the location, geography, munitions, all that stuff, of the Lipans. You know the drill. We have three weeks before we reach their main territory. Find out if they will stay there or come to meet us."

"Yes, Caesar."

Six was about to protest but had to turn it into a cough when he said, "You get one, too, Six."

"Yes, Lord."

* * *

Six bumped her shoulder into Vulpes' as they walked from the tent. He started away from her, and she laughed. "Thanks," she said.

"For?"

"Keeping my people fed," she answered.

"Indeed. I knew you wouldn't think of it right away. You had a lot on your plate. Unlike your Spartans."

"Was that a pun? Vulpes, you shock me."

"I am a man of many talents," he said dryly. "Now that you are aware, I will show you the requisite forms and I shall never do it again."

Six sniffed. "Now I kind of wish I never realized they needed food."

She could see Vulpes fighting a laugh.

* * *

Six woke up early that morning with a full bladder. Remus followed her as she walked to the latrine. It seemed he was as attached to her as she was to him. He jumped around her, happy as always to be outside and moving. She laughed.

Suddenly Remus yelped and cried, falling to the ground. She dropped down immediately and crawled to him. His legs were jerking violently. She tried her best to hold his head at her awkward angle, to hold his body still. After a few seconds, the flailing calmed. She could see his entrails falling out of his shattered ribcage. There was no stimpak in the world that could fix that, even if she had one on her. Remus started to whine. Not a friendly whine. Or an I'm-hungry whine. Or an I-need-to-go-outside whine. Or even a hurt-paw whine. It seemed to go on forever, that desperate, helpless noise. His eyes seemed to plead to her, but she didn't know what they were asking for. To fix it, to not leave him alone, or to simply make the pain end. Just when Six was cursing the fact that she left her machete in the tent, thinking she would have to break his neck to put him out of his misery, the whine stopped.

* * *

"This isn't enough."

"You wanted to kill her. Then you didn't. Now it's not enough. Let's kill her, then."

"No. It wouldn't be enough. We must destroy them. All of them."

"Hmm. Sounds good. How?"

"Those markings by the fire site. Another tribe did that. We should find them. Before they do."

A sigh.

"Alright. Good a plan as any, I suppose."


	22. Gotta Shoot 'Em in the Head

Six was nearing the point at which she would start screaming at Vulpes. He didn't care. It didn't surprise her that he didn't care. Frankly, she was surprised that she cared so much. He was just a dog, after all. She only had him for a few weeks.

"He killed the dog; he didn't kill you. That tells us something."

Remus had probably saved her life. She would have had an extremely challenging fight against Hecate and her three dogs.

"It suggests that the sniper has some knowledge of Legion custom, but it is outdated. However, that hypothesis still leaves questions. You don't look like a slave. From a distance you would look more like a Legionary than a woman."

He was a happy dog. She took him from Antony, and he was happier with her. It was still her fault he was dead. He wouldn't have been there to shoot if she had left him alone.

"We already know the sniper is a crack shot. Therefore we must assume that he wanted to kill the dog, and not you. We could further assume that his eyes are good enough to see that you are, in fact, a woman in Legion clothing, and not a man. He would have been able to see your long hair and likely the curves of your body since you were not wearing armor. It could be that simple."

Chivalrous sniper, she thought humorlessly. Won't kill a woman, but has no problem killing a dog.

"But it is not the first time he has shot toward this tent. A warning? For me? For you?"

Was there a better way to warn somebody than to shoot them in the head? Six didn't think so.

"Would you _listen?_ This sniper is targeting one of us-"

"Whatever, Vulpes. It doesn't matter."

"It was just a dog! Would you focus on what is important?" he shouted.

"What do you want, Vulpes? Do you want to write out a list of our enemies?" she snapped. "Between the two of us, I don't know if there's enough paper in this camp." She sighed. "He's just a dog. I get it. I know it's irrational. But I'm going to go ahead and be sad about it for a while, so get over it. As for the sniper, I _am_ focusing. I just don't see what we should do. We're breaking camp today, anyway, so by tomorrow he'll have to find us again while we're on the move. That's the best thing possible. And you said he was shooting people here while we were out of camp, so he's not only after us. He's an opportunist as well. Leaving and travelling on our own won't make anyone safer. What else? Am I missing something of practical value that we need to do right now?"

He gave her a hard look. "Someone is targeting us, but not killing us. They want us to be scared. To suffer. I think that deserves a conversation."

"And I think the fact that my dog was killed deserves a little sympathy from you. I guess neither of us get what we want."

They sat in silence for a while. Six caved, like she always did. "We should split up. Then we'll find out who they're targeting."

"No," Vulpes said immediately.

"Why not? It's a good idea."

He didn't look at her. Finally he said, "I suppose it is."

Yeah, she really wanted to scream.

* * *

The camp had stood 10 miles outside Santa Ana for over a month, but it was broken down in less than twelve hours. That night everyone laid on bedrolls under the stars. Moving out in the morning. Six slept with her Spartans. No one was shot.

* * *

Yvana walked next to Six. She practiced wrist movements with a machete as Six drilled her on English vocabulary. She was coming along very nicely. Six looked forward to the day that she could delegate some of the mundane admin work, such as food requisition and camp arrangements.

Ruth ran up to them from behind. She looked worriedly at Six, then began speaking rapidly to Yvana, who nodded repeatedly as her expression grew darker.

"She says Jonas believes herself to be with child," Yvana whispered.

It was all Six could do to keep walking with a straight face instead of stomping her foot on the ground like a child and yelling, 'Fuck, _why_, God damn it, stupid, fucking, give me a _break!_'

She took a deep breath through her nose and said only, "Thank you for informing me."

What the hell was she supposed to do about _that_?

* * *

Vulpes' suggestion was to give her to the slave master and be done with it. He pointed out that becoming a slave was a good deterrent for the other women. While a part of her really enjoyed the idea of making Jonas someone else's problem, she couldn't stomach it.

She needed Arcade.

* * *

A camp on the move was not a good place to have a private conversation with Caesar's favorite Profligate. She sent a message that evening saying a Spartan had been injured in sparring practice, which returned a reply from Caesar that _not every Legionary gets special treatment for their scrapes and bruises._ The next night she went personally to Arcade's area with the excuse that she wanted to talk about the priestess' books on Trivia, but found Caesar still there and after three hours discussing the finer points of Roman religion with no sign of him leaving for bed she gave up. She lay on her bedroll that night for hours, worrying and imagining worse and worse scenarios, and was acutely aware that once morning came it would be going on three days since she had been told, and she still had no direction for her subordinates.

She stood and quickly dressed, walking quietly through the sleeping camp. She reached Arcade's pop-tent and discretely crouched inside. Caesar's tent was near, and there were always Praetorians on guard.

She knelt down next to his bedroll.

"Arcade," she whispered.

He mumbled in his sleep. Six suddenly realized exactly how bad of an idea this was.

But then again, she was already here.

_"Arcade!"_ she hissed.

"Six, what the hell are you doing here?"

"Shh. I need to talk to you."

"Seriously? Go away." He threw his arm over his face and turned away from her.

"It's _important_."

"Don't care," he mumbled.

She bit her lip. "A woman's life might hang in the balance," she tried.

After a moment he let out a long-suffering, irritated sigh, and sat up.

"It better not be _your_ life that hangs in the balance. Because if it is, I'm going back to sleep," he said. She smiled at him. He glared at her.

"On of my Spartans," she whispered. "She's pregnant."

"Pregnancy is often not life-threatening, you know," he replied. "The priestesses are actually relatively skilled for not having modern medicine."

"It's not that," she said. "No one knows she's pregnant yet. I don't know what to do about it."

"So her life hangs in the balance in the more metaphorical context of negatively affecting your image," he said dryly.

"It stops being a metaphor if Caesar finds out before I have a plan and he sends her to the slave barracks."

It was dark, so she couldn't tell if his expression was more patronizing or angry. "Suddenly you have an aversion to sending people into slavery, huh."

"Come on, Arcade. Now is not the time to be... whatever. Pissy. You know you want to tell me what to do. I want to do what you tell me to do. So just tell me what to do!"

He looked at her blankly. "Pissy," he said.

She groaned. "Sorry, sorry, I didn't mean it like that-"

"The moan of frustration really detracts from the sincerity of your apology."

"Well, I don't exactly have a lot of time here. I've been trying to talk to you for days. I need to tell them something soon. I'm supposed to be their leader."

"Not a very good one. Maybe you shouldn't be in charge of people."

"We don't have time! Next time we talk I will listen to every single one of your arguments on why I am an awful, terrible person and I should be put down. Right now I need your _help!_"

"Calm down, alright? You're going to wake up the whole camp. I'll just give you the summarized version. You have your women now, good. It's progress. But what do you do as soon as you get them? You support them with slave labor. The women from the other tribes are slaves now. Your Spartans' food is cooked by slaves. Their clothes are washed by slaves. Their water is delivered by slaves. That is not a precedent you should have set. And now you come to me in the middle of the night, haunted by the possibility that one of your precious girls _might_ become a slave. Me, someone you sold into slavery. You sure are selective when it comes to who deserves freedom."

She gaped at him for a moment. "You want me to fix everything about this society right fucking now? I think I've done pretty well, actually, and I have quite enough to be going on with at the moment, if you'd care to think about it. I'm trying to do the right thing and keep this woman out of the slave pen and you're on my case about all the ones I haven't saved yet? Am I responsible for everyone in the fucking Mojave? And! I've already apologized to you!" she whispered fiercely.

"I'll make you a deal. You think long and hard about what I said, and I'll think of a way to help your woman."

"Right, fine, good," Six said. "But it has to be soon. I need to get this solved."

"You're not going to think about it, are you?" he asked.

She glared at him. "Of course I'm going to think about it. Everything you've ever said to me runs around in circles in my brain every night until I feel so horrible that I want to kill myself."

"Thanks for the sarcasm."

She moved over to the edge of the pop tent and checked the camp outside for movement. She looked back over her shoulder at Arcade. "It wasn't," she said, and left.

* * *

The man was tall and thin, but muscular, with skin the color of wet clay. His hair was braided and he wore clothing like woven blankets despite the heat. He had a sawed-off shotgun on his thigh and an obsidian knife in his hand.

"What is your purpose here?" he asked. His speech was heavily accented and difficult to understand.

"Travelling," one man replied.

"You do not wear the clothes of the _extranjero_."

"The men in red?" he asked. "No. We look for safety from them."

The tall man nodded. "They come to claim lands. They will not claim ours. I am Etal. What is your names?"

"I am Seven," he said. He turned to his partner, who had been quiet.

The man shrugged. "I'm Eight," he said shortly.

Etal nodded. "You know of these Red Men?"

Seven smiled. "Yes," he said. "We know a lot about them."


	23. Lover's Tiff

Etal walked fast, but talked slowly. "The Red Men have taken hundreds already. They must be fearsome. The Daughters of Hecate and those they control are not strangers to war, but they did not fight."

"They were lied to," Seven said. "The Legion - the Red Men - they use lies and trickery. When that doesn't work, they use war."

Etal nodded. "It will be war, then. We knew as much. The Lipans came to the Hounds in the night and slaughtered them, but the Red Men are many. They will fall. And then it will be only us."

Seven frowned. "So you're not from the tribe that burned the Hounds?"

"No," said Etal. "I am Tarahumara. We live to the south. Hundred miles."

Eight whistled. Seven asked, "A hundred miles? What are you doing all the way up here?"

Etal smiled. "Hundred miles not so far for Tara people. We run."

"That's a long way to run," Seven said. Etal shrugged. "If the Lipans are too small to fight the Legion, the Tara should join with them."

Etal nodded sadly. "I, too, think this. But I am, what you call, courier. Messenger for the north. I speak languages. I see things. But Tara and Lipan have been at war for generations untold."

"It might be your only chance," said Seven. "There is a thousand Legion men, and they do not give up."

"Perhaps it is time," he agreed. "I will return to my lands and speak with the elders of my tribe. I will have to leave you here. Continue along this road, but when it curves, go south by the sun. This will keep you from Lipan lands. I cannot guarantee your safety there."

Eight spoke suddenly. "You want us to walk a hundred miles to meet you?"

"There is no shelter to take for many miles that the Lipans do not know of, and you are as likely to be attacked while sitting as while walking," he said with a smile. "I watch the North. I will be back in a few days. And if I am not, you will be at least further from the Red Men."

He bowed his head to them and, without any more words, took off running.

"He can't run two hundred miles in a few days," said Eight.

Seven smiled. "He'll be back."

* * *

"Six, stay. I want to talk about your report."

She was only a little nervous as everyone else left the tent. Vulpes had looked over her report before she turned it in, so there couldn't be any problems with it.

When he told the Praetorians to leave, she couldn't help tensing.

"Relax, Six, I'm not going to kill you. If I wanted that, I would have kept the muscle." He eyed her. "There are some things even they don't need to hear."

She bowed her head and waited.

"So. What the hell is going on with you and Arcade?"

"I... I don't understand-"

"Because to me, it looks like a lover's tiff.'

She gaped at him. "Arcade? I don't, that's not even-"

"Let me lay out the facts, shall I? You travelled with him in the past. You spent a lot of time together in New Vegas after the occupation. You often find excuses to visit him. Then, he asks me to be removed from English duty to your Spartans because it takes up too much of his time. He complains that you overuse his services as a doctor. And _then_, you are seen sneaking into his tent in the middle of the night and remaining there for some time. _Now,_ Arcade says he must hand-deliver some religious texts to you today. The conclusion suggests itself. So I ask you," he continued, as Six's eyes grew to the size of tin plates, "what should I do about this? As you are now a member of the Legion, it is not my _modus operandi_ to tell you which slaves to consort with. Being fair, I recognize that Arcade is the only male slave in this camp. But you understand that your position in the Legion, indeed all positions, are contingent on not causing discord in my society."

"I'm not... _consorting_ with Arcade, Lord Caesar. The very idea is laughable."

"Not from where I'm sitting."

"Do you think that if Arcade and I were, that we had been _together,_ my giving him into slavery would not have been more cause for argument?" She paused. "While I'm sure he is always entirely respectful to you, I can't imagine that he wouldn't have spoken his feelings on the subject."

He scoffed. "I do not expect matters of the heart to be rational. Many in the Legion know no other way of life than war, and have not seen firsthand the stupid decisions young people in love can make."

"We're not - have you talked to Arcade about this?" she asked.

"I have. Though I don't think I will tell you what he said. I prefer to hear whatever story you come up with."

Six thought frantically. It all came down to whether or not Arcade told him about the pregnancy. Everything else could wait. How far would Arcade go to protect her? Not very far, she thought. How far would he go to protect a woman he'd never met, and her unborn child?

"It is true I spend time with him. But I would point out, with all due respect my Lord Caesar, that you do as well. He is intelligent, and his knowledge on many subjects, including our Gods, is among the highest in the camp."

"So that's it, is it? You sneak into his tent in the middle of the night to discuss religion?"

"One of my Spartans had questions on religious matters. I tried to talk to him during normal hours." But apparently, he'd been avoiding her.

"And yet you came and joined us in a religious conversation for many hours last night and didn't mention your woman's question. Stop trying to hide whatever you're hiding. If you are fucking him, it's hardly the end of the world. I won't tell Vulpes. Just as I wouldn't tell you if he was fucking slaves and wanted to keep it quiet. I would simply tell you to stop, because it is causing me headache."

What did Arcade say to him? She doubted it was the truth. For all he hated her, it wasn't about her. It was about an innocent pregnant woman and her freedom. But would he have taken hold of this convenient lie? She honestly didn't know.

"My Lord, I didn't speak her problems in front of you because I didn't want you to think there was any weakness in my Spartans." He raised an eyebrow at her. "And if there _were_ anything going on between Arcade and myself," she said carefully, "it would end immediately, and all interactions would be restricted to the daytime hours."

He smirked at her. That was fine. Let him think he was right; hopefully by the time Jonas' pregnancy came out he wouldn't connect it to this conversation.

* * *

Arcade arrived shortly after they broke camp. Apparently Caesar wasn't that upset about their _affair._ He dumped some books into her arms, causing her to struggle as she walked.

"Thanks," she mumbled.

"I live to serve," he said.

She handed the books off to Yvana and waved her away.

"I take it you have an idea?" she asked.

"What would you do without me," he said airily. Her lip curled, but she didn't respond. "Yes, I have some ideas. They are going to be difficult, but most things are if you want to do them right. And you want to do this right, I'm sure."

"Yes," she said with a tight-lipped smile.

"If you're trying to grow your Spartans into a fully-fledged, new Legion custom, which you are, you're going to have to be in control of your own pregnancies and births. Which means, first, you need to figure out what to do with pregnant women."

"Yes, I thought _figuring out what to do_ was a fantastic plan. Anything else?"

"Touchy. Are you still upset about our break up?"

"You told him that, too?"

"His mind was made up. He wouldn't have believed anything else."

"At least I have a built in excuse to come bother you next time you start avoiding me."

He ignored that. "This is, at heart, a fighting force, you so don't want all your women getting pregnant. So there must be some kind of negative association. But you don't want to give them to the slavemasters, either. My solution solves three problems, actually. The pregnant women, to both punish them and keep them safe, become the new support staff. Not slaves, but they get a reduced wage. Now you keep your women, discourage unplanned pregnancy, and stop relying on slaves all in one policy."

Six nodded, but said, "I only have one pregnant woman. Is she supposed to do everything?"

Arcade shrugged. "You only have thirty women. You could set the ones who break the rules, or the ones who perform badly during drills, to support tasks in the evening."

"Except no one breaks the rules, and we aren't drilling while we're on the move."

He tsked. "I'm trying to set up a long-standing tradition, and you're nitpicking. You will start drilling again, and eventually people will break the rules. As for now, it wouldn't be too much to have her cook meals and at least help with the laundry. When the baby is born, there should be a big celebration, though, to distinguish those who perform badly from those who were pregnant. We want to discourage pregnancy, not demonize it."

"That could work," she agreed.

"Of course it would. I have thought about this, you know. The more difficult part comes after the baby is born. If it's a boy, you can send him to the instructors when he is old enough. But if it is a girl, you need to have something in place. You will have to raise them in your own community. Nothing in the Legion is set up to handle raising women who aren't destined for slavery. You will need to have your own instructors." At her worried look, he said, "It won't be that bad. The Daughters of Hecate were midwives originally, weren't they? I'm sure they already have some knowledge of raising children."

Six let out a relieved sigh. "This is why I need you, Arcade. This is exactly what I wanted to do, I just didn't know it until you told me."

"Yes, well, like I said, I live to serve," he said bitterly. "If that's all you require from me at this time, I'll just pop back down in my lamp."

He angled away from her, but she grabbed his arm and pulled him back, causing them both to stumble.

"The hell, Six? I solved your problem for you, just-"

"No. I'm not letting you go so you can start avoiding me again. I want to talk to you."

He wrenched his arm from her grasp. "Loathe as I am to admit it, I will always help you when someone's life or freedom is on the line. I can see the bigger picture. But my obligation to humanity definitely stops short of indulging your every whim," he spat.

She stared at him. "What is it, Arcade? I know the whole slavery thing still hurts, I'm not trying to downplay that or anything." He scoffed. "But it's different now. Don't try to say it isn't. Something new is bothering you."

He glared at her, then sighed. "It isn't new. It really isn't. And, knowing that, I know it's illogical of me to be hating you more now than usual. I just got a... confirmation, that's all."

"What does that mean?"

"Nothing to worry your little head about. You've got a lot of new things to take care of. You've got your female warriors now. That was your third wish, wasn't it?"

"What are you _talking_ about, Arcade?"

He raised an eyebrow at her, then shook his head. "Nothing."

Suddenly, it clicked into place. She grabbed his arm again and stopped walking. "Arcade," she said. "I can't. Not yet. I don't have that power. Do you want me to secret you into the wild to die of thirst?" She winced. That wasn't the real reason. Not the important one, anyway. And if there was one person she would never speak falsely to again, it was Arcade. "I... I need you. I'm sorry."

"Don't worry about it," he said. "It's not your fault. No one ever frees the genie."

He walked away, and this time she let him. If he stayed, she would start shouting. Or crying. She took a deep breath.

"Ruth!" she yelled, and started walking again. The woman ran up to her quickly. "I have a mission for you."


	24. Icarus

As far as Six could tell, no one was getting shot at anymore. Perhaps the sniper had given up. Perhaps he'd been stung by a radscorpion and died, alone in the wastes.

Perhaps he was planning something. What that might be, Six didn't know. But the quiet outside the camp made her uneasy. They had been travelling almost three weeks, and even the Lipans, the warring tribe in the relatively near area, were nowhere to be seen. She expected skirmishes, not silence.

Yvana was also worried, though not as much as Six. She was in charge of organizing the work force for the Spartans. Six would follow Arcade's advice in spirit as well as letter this time. She discontinued slave use completely, and for now there was a work rota for all chores, as well as Jonas, the pregnant one, who was on permanent mess duty. The women accepted it easily, as they seemed to accept everything she told them. She hoped it was because they agreed with her decisions, and not because they all thought she was a god. The idea bothered her greatly, though she knew Vulpes would say it hardly mattered. At least she had gotten most of them to stop calling her Trivia. To her face, anyway.

She tried to focus on what Yvana was saying, but support logistics were just as boring spoken in her heavy Spanish accent as they were in Caesar's tent.

Speaking of which, she should probably make her way over there. It was almost time for their nightly meeting.

"Is that all, Yvana?"

"Most everything, sir. There is a lack of water in the camp from so much travel. There is a small river on the other side of the hills. Usually Lipans are there, but usually Lipans are in this whole place. We might get water from there."

Six nodded. "Thank you for the information. For now, just wash the clothes less frequently. Once a week."

Yvana bowed her head. "That is what we are doing, sir."

"Good. Well. Good. You're very good at this, Yvana. Use your own judgment, if we need to conserve more."

"Yes, sir."

She forced herself not to shake her head in frustration as she walked away. All she ever wanted to be was a Praetorian. She wasn't cut out for this kind of job. She turned and looked back at her camp. Spartans were moving quickly; setting up pop-tents and readying the evening meal. She felt fear for them, and for herself, leading this change. There was a trickle of pride as well, but it was small these days, and easily overwhelmed.

* * *

"Thank you for joining us, Lanius," Caesar said. Lanius wasn't late, he never was, but Caesar always said something cutting to the last person to show up. "Let's get started. I have many things I wish to discuss. But first, a curiosity. Have you decided that your women are slaves, Six?"

"Lord?"

"You've stopped using slaves for support. Does that mean you realize that all women were born to cook and clean?"

She tried to keep all the sarcasm out of the thin-lipped smile she gave him. At his expression, she wasn't entirely successful. Oh, well. Cards on the table. She hated her job anyway. "No, Lord Caesar. I suppose the image of women being slaves to other women made me uncomfortable."

He smirked at her. "Would you rather have some male slaves? Your... _women_ must be lonely."

So he wouldn't tell Vulpes his suspicions about her and Arcade, just tease her mercilessly in front of him. Not that Vulpes would care, but it was the principle of the matter.

"No, Lord Caesar," she said brightly. "Being frank, I would rather there were no slaves at all."

She saw Vulpes' lips harden into a thin line. Everyone looked uneasy. She probably shouldn't have said that.

Caesar started laughing. Big, raucous laughs like it was the funniest thing he'd ever heard. Maybe she would be able to play it off as a joke. He calmed down enough to say, "Get out, Six."

She froze momentarily. "I didn't, I mean, Lord Caesar, I-"

"Get the fuck out, Courier." He wasn't laughing anymore. She bowed her head and left. She went straight to Vulpes' tent. He would have words for her. Also, she wasn't ready to go back to the Spartans and put her strong leader mask back on yet.

* * *

It was hours before he showed up. Six was dozing on his bedroll when she was woken by, "Can't you ever keep your fucking mouth shut?"

He must be angry to curse like that. She rolled over to a seated position. "Uh..."

"Don't answer that. He wanted to disband the Spartans. Accused you of trying to hijack his society. That's not a good thing for him to be saying when that's _exactly what we're doing,_" he whispered angrily.

She rubbed the sleep from her eyes. "I didn't think-"

"Exactly," he spat. "You never think. You blunder halfway into a bad situation, and you say to yourself, 'Oh, well, I'm already here. Might as well do as much damage as possible!' Is it from your brain trauma, or were you always this incredibly ignorant? It's not even ignorance. Ignorance can be corrected with learning. This is just idiocy." He laughed humorlessly. "Good thing you never went in for gambling in New Vegas. You'd have lost all your money at the poker tables."

She glared at him. "Actually, I'll have you know I was pretty decent at poker. It's called _bluffing_, and if you remember that strategy is what got me a place in the Frumentarii in the first place. It works more often than you'd like to admit, because _you'd_ rather cower and bide your time until it's too late. Without me you wouldn't have gotten a female force ever. Certainly not in the few short years before your daughter gets too old to be a part of it."

He gave her a murderous look. "Keep those words out of your mouth inside this camp, fool. And what good is any of this if you destroy it as soon as you create it?"

She shrugged. "I said what I believe. I thought it would be right up your alley anyway, what with, you know. Your past and whatnot. I mean, it's never going to happen if no one says it."

He ran his hand down the side of his face and sat heavily on the bedroll next to her. "Regardless of what you _think_ you know of my _past_, abolishing slavery was never a part of our goal. We are nowhere near that. Probably not in our lifetimes, and at least not for a decade or two at the earliest. You are risking the tenuous stability of your female force on a naïve and sophomoric ambition. Your Latin name should be Icarus."

She smiled. His insults didn't bite as hard when they were sitting next to each other, staring off into the same empty space. "I suppose that make you Daedalus?"

"Indeed. Perhaps you should heed my warnings."

"Maybe it isn't part of _your_ goal, but it's definitely part of mine."

He scoffed. "Your profligate boyfriend whispering in your ear again, hmm?"

"Whatever, Vulpes," she said tiredly. "If he fires me, honestly I don't even care-"

"Fire you? Surely you mean 'crucify'. Although he has lit people on fire before-"

"I hate being the leader of the Spartans," she continued. "Most of the time it's incredibly boring. Half the time, it's incredibly frustrating. And it's always, _always_ fucking terrifying."

"You're scared, that's it? Scared little girl-"

"I'm _exhausted_, Vulpes. You're right. I can barely keep _myself_ out of trouble. Now I'm responsible for the entire lives of thirty women. When they eat. When they sleep. When they _die_. What happens to their _children_. Half of them don't even think I'm human. They expect me to be perfect. Always successful. I make one mistake, if their faith in me is shaken, they would lose it all. And all the future holds is more. More logistics meetings. More women to command. More responsibility to shoulder. There is no end in sight, just constant increases. I'm already tired, Vulpes. One of the only reasons I can handle it now is because I have Arcade's advice to fall back on when I get overwhelmed. But he's not going to be-"

"You shouldn't listen to that profligate, you should listen to me," he snapped.

She sighed. "Yes, it would certainly be easier to give my pregnant women to the slave masters. It would be easier to have the slaves keep doing all the cooking and cleaning. It would be easier to ignore everything about it. But it wouldn't be _right_. Those women deserve to chose for themselves what kind of life they want, not live at the whim of men." She looked at him, but he was still turned away. "I used to think I was special, somehow. I'm not special. I'm... circumstantial. I happened to get the job for the platinum chip. I happened to have access to House. I happened to fall into a position of power. But that doesn't mean I'm more worthy of freedom than any of these other women."

"Some are born great," Vulpes intoned. "Some-"

"Oh, shut up."

The corner of his mouth turned upward in a small smile, but faded quickly. "If your responsibilities now are too great for you, why do you seek to shoulder the burden of even more downtrodden souls?"

She laughed quietly. "Maybe my Latin name should be Atlas."

He looked at her then. "It's a punishment from the gods?" he asked, with only a hint of sarcasm.

"You're right, you know. You're always right when it comes to me. You know me better than I do." He opened his mouth to speak, but she cut him off. "I'm short-sighted and stupid most of the time. When it comes to controlling myself, I should listen to you. But when it comes to right and wrong, it's Arcade I should listen to. I don't listen to him often enough."

He made an angry noise in the back of his throat. "You don't listen to _me_ often enough. That man is going to run you into the ground with guilt."

"Perhaps I deserve it," she said.

He turned his whole body to face her. "It is better to succeed partially than to fail utterly."

"Sacrifice the perfect for the good. Is it?" she asked quietly.

"No one would have believed you would even get this far-"

"So how do you know we can't go further?" she pressed, invigorated. "I know I complain a lot. I know I said I don't care. It feels good to say it sometimes," she said with a smile. "I'm so frustrated all the time. But I do care. We've already done the impossible, why not do it again? Besides," she added quietly. "Isn't the reason you started on this because you had a daughter born by a slave, into slavery, and you thought it was wrong?"

He didn't answer that question. "There was a time you only wished to be a Praetorian. Now you would burn up every ounce of yourself to right the wrongs he shoulders you with."

She chewed her lip and looked away from him. These next words would be hard, but she needed to speak them, if only to stop them circling her head. "It's not Arcade that burdens me. It's the truth. I'm not sure what changed when I went to the Divide. I didn't get any of my memory back, not really. But it's like... I remembered the roads." She shook her head. "Or at least, the signs. Some of them. I don't know. After I left there, I looked back over my life since waking up in Goodsprings. It was like... like taking off blinders. Like I had tunnel vision, but then I could see properly. See what I was doing, what I did. I only worried about myself. I wanted to be a Praetorian, I didn't care about the women in slavery or the... the ones that were captured," she said quickly. "I didn't care about lying to Arcade and selling him out. Not really. Even Chalk. I felt guilty, but I still..." she fell silent. She never told Vulpes what happened with Chalk, and she wasn't going to. He probably knew, he knew everything, but she still didn't want to talk about it. "Yeah, it's tiring looking out for other people instead of just myself. And I resent it sometimes. Doesn't change what has to be done."

"You sound like Ulysses," he remarked. She shrugged. "Perhaps," he said slowly, "I shouldn't have sent you there."

"Yeah. Perhaps not."

"I thought-"

"It's fine, Vulpes. I didn't mean that. Maybe life would be easier now, without the unseen spectre of my past morality haunting my every decision." She raised her eyebrows jauntily and smiled at him. "But it would be wrong."

His brow furrowed, and he stared at her. She fidgeted uncomfortably. She tried to think of something else to say. She should ask what Caesar told him. The whole conversation would be pointless if she was no longer in charge of the Spartans, but she rather thought he would have said by now if that was the case. She could ask about the sniper, or if they had any intelligence about the Lipans that were supposed to be in the area. Tell him about the water source nearby. She would probably start babbling about anything if he kept staring at her like that.

Right when she opened her mouth to say God knew what, he reached his hand out and pushed her hair back behind her ear. She froze, mouth gaping open, eyebrows up by her hairline. "What do you think you're doing?" she asked.

He pulled his hand back and turned away. "Nothing."

"Nothing? That was-"

"You were upset. I thought you'd appreciate a token of physical comfort."

"Physical comfort, huh?" she smirked at him. "When have I ever asked you for _that?_"

"I suppose you're right; you get enough of that from your profligate boyfriends-"

"Are you jealous or something, Vulpes? Come on, now."

She could hear his teeth gritting. "Perhaps you should go to him now. I think I am tired of talking."

She cocked her head to the side. "I already know what he will say."

"Yes," he bit out. "He will tell you to sacrifice yourself for the sake of himself. You think it's a coincidence a slave tells you to free the slaves?"

"You've never had a problem with telling me to do things I didn't want to do for the _greater good_," she pointed out.

His head whipped back to her; face full of anger. "When you were following my direction it was what you wanted. You were energized. You had motivation. It didn't lead you to despair."

She scoffed. "Are you forgetting about the Northern Passage? I was tired all the way back then."

"And he asks you to do even more."

"So do you."

He was silent for a while. She wondered if that meant she won. Probably not.

"You will not be able to free the slaves. Not now. Not for a long time. To fight that battle is to lose. I think that's what he wants. Either way, he wins. If you did the impossible and succeeded, he would be free. But more likely you will fail, and he will be just as happy to see you thrown out, dead, or on a cross."

"First he's my lover, now he hates me. Can't be both, Vulpes."

He gave her a smile that made goose bumps rise on her arms. "Of course it can. Don't confuse sex with love, Courier."

"First Caesar, now you. Don't call me that. And I'm not sleeping with him, you know."

He continued to smile that perverse, somewhat threatening smile. Six made a very conscious decision to do something she told herself she would never do again. "You must have practiced that menacing grin on a lot of NCR Rangers," she spat. "It's pretty good."

He laughed as she walked out of the tent. Once she was outside, she heard a rattling and a loud thump, as though something had fallen or been thrown to the ground, but she didn't turn back. Let Vulpes throw a fit. About time he felt some of her frustration. Anyway, she had plans. She hadn't meant to do it so soon, but if things were going sour this might be her last chance.


	25. Sacrifices and Slavery

It was a bad idea, all things considered, and an even worse one to do it at all. Especially now. But it had to be now. She might not get another chance. Six grimaced. There was nothing for it. She put the finishing touches on her modified stimpack. This wasn't going to be pleasant. She went to wake Ruth.

"It's time," she whispered. Ruth nodded. She left quickly; she slept in her armor. She was good. Six would hate to lose her. She brushed the thought away and went to get Merrin. They were the two, besides Yvana, that she was most sure of in their loyalty to her. There was no one else she could trust.

They waited silently, half a mile from the edge of the Spartan's camp, for Ruth to find them.

Shortly, two figures could be seen running toward them. Arcade was fumbling with his bag, trying to open it on the move. When he reached the two women, he stopped.

"Alright, Six. Clearly the radscorpion sting was a ruse. What's going on?" he asked tiredly.

"This is Ruth, and Merrin," she said, gesturing to them. "They will take you northwest into NCR land-controlled land." She raised an eyebrow at him. "Looks like I get four wishes."

"Are you... are you serious?" he whispered. "They know I'm over here. They'll know it was you."

She shrugged. "I'll tell them you got kidnapped by tribals. I'll even shoot some rounds into the desert, in case they're listening."

"That doesn't make any sense. Even if one of the Spartans was writing in pain due to a radscorpion sting, which she _isn't_, that story doesn't hold water."

"So what. You'll be long gone by then."

"They'll kill you for this," he said.

That could very possibly be true. She brushed dust from her shoulder. "Doubt it," she said.

He almost laughed, but didn't. He raised his hand to rub his forehead. "You'd take that risk," he said flatly.

She showed him her teeth; the closest she could get to a smile. "Looks like it, huh?" she said brightly. He stared at her for a while, until she grew uncomfortable. "I don't want to be an ungracious host or anything, but time is of the essence, here..."

"What happened to needing me?" he asked.

Six gritted her teeth to stop from yelling. "I do need you," she bit out. "I would like very much for you to stay here and help me every time I ask. But someone once told me that I can't force people to do things just because I want them to."

He kept staring at her with an unreadable expression. "If you're going to go," she said, with as little bitterness as she could, "you better go now. If they show up looking for you in the next twenty minutes or so, we all lose," she said. "Oh," she remembered. "But give me some bandages and alcohol before you do, alright?"

"What?" he asked, nonplussed.

Behind Arcade, she could see two figures approaching them. "Shit," she said, before falling gracelessly onto Ruth, who caught her at the armpits. "What are they doing here already?" While Arcade turned around, she dug the stimpack out of her pocket and jabbed it into her leg, pushing down on the plunger. She handed it to Merrin, who pocketed it. "Remember the story," she said. "Remember what to do." She took her machete and started gouging at the small hole.

Arcade turned back. "What the - what are you doing?" He wrestled the blade from her hands.

She let him have it; she was finished. "Faking a radscorpion..." she slurred, head dizzy.

"Is that actually - Six, you're _allergic_ to -"

"I know... s'why it works..."

She closed her eyes. She heard Ruth start speaking quietly, and felt someone's lips on her leg, sucking at her wound, before she lost consciousness.

* * *

She woke up on a bedroll, sticky with sweat. Her head was aching and her leg felt like it was on fire. She pulled away the sheet to inspect the damage, but it was wrapped in bandages. They were thick with pus. Some of the veins in her leg were inflamed. It looked bad, but Six knew that if she was going to die, she wouldn't have woken up.

She was alone in a small pop-tent. Her mind was mostly clear, and she was worried. She hoped desperately that Ruth and Merrin had played their parts. She hoped desperately that Arcade was alright. She had taken the risk, and the mission had failed, but if everyone stuck to the story it might turn out alright. Or at least, she might not get crucified for treason. That would be a win at this point.

She ran over the story in her head in case someone came calling soon. She heard gunshots, took Ruth and Merrin with her to investigate. Got caught up by a baby radscorpion in the darkness. Since she was allergic to antivenom, she freaked out and tried to cut the poison out of her with a machete as Ruth ran for the doctor. That way if anyone saw the wound they wouldn't be able to tell it was a needle puncture instead of a radscorpion sting. She grinned ruefully. Whether or not she would be believed hinged on Caesar's willingness to accept that three highly trained female warriors were taken by surprise by common local fauna, and furthermore were unable to kill a small radscorpion in close quarters. After working so hard for the women to be taken seriously, now she had to hope he thought they were all weak and stupid, and she in particular was hysterical. But it had to be done. Even though she failed, she didn't regret trying.

No one came for her. After a couple hours the burning in her thigh receded, and she struggled to her feet. She gingerly tested her weight on her injured leg, and went sprawling to the ground. Of course it would be during that embarrassing moment that Vulpes showed up.

"Those radscorpions," he deadpanned. "Dangerous business."

Ruth and Merrin were behind him, and they rushed forward to help her up as he glared at her with his arms crossed. She tried a bright smile. His expression grew darker.

They didn't speak as they made their way, Merrin burdened by Six's weight on her shoulder, back to the Spartan camp. She settled her onto one of the few chairs in the main tent.

"Leave us," Vulpes barked. Six had to restrain a smile when the two women looked at her first for confirmation.

"You are dismissed," she said, and they left.

He glared at her some more, but whether it was a lingering affect of the poison or because she still felt somehow unburdened by trying to free Arcade, she didn't really care. She wouldn't be flippant, though. Not this time. She knew the peace she felt now wouldn't last, and if Vulpes' expression was anything to go by she wouldn't like what came after.

"Why do I even bother?" he asked rhetorically.

She choked down a sarcastic reply and waited for him to continue.

"Your loyalty was already in question. Specifically because of this sort of thing. Then you try to secret him away. What were you _thinking?_"

She paused in case he would keep speaking, but he didn't. "I'm sure you already know what I was thinking, Vulpes."

"Damn right, I do. Risking yourself, risking everything for that fucking profligate. Again. Tell me now he has no hold over you."

"I never said he didn't. I just said it wasn't because of a relationship or anything. I was doing the right thing."

"You certainly weren't. The only doctor in the camp. What if someone else needed healing?"

"The Legion was fine before they had Arcade-"

He crouched down and looked her in the eyes. "You nearly killed yourself. Think, for a moment. What's more important. A pissant little doctor getting his freedom, or the leader of the Spartans continuing her work?"

"You can't make me regret it, Vulpes."

He sighed heavily. "Doesn't matter anyway. You're being sent on another suicide mission. All of you. Caesar can't prove you were trying to steal Arcade from him, but he certainly suspects something nefarious happened."

She couldn't help smiling this time. Something nefarious, indeed. "I'm pretty good at suicide missions, you know," she said.

For a moment, Vulpes looked like he wanted to laugh, but he didn't. "That is our hope, once again; that your luck will see you through another stupid decision."

"What must I do?"

He sat on the ground next to her and avoided answering by inspecting her leg. "You should change the bandages soon."

She wanted to say, 'You a doctor, too, now?' but in this mood she didn't think he'd appreciate it. Well, he never appreciated Arcade jokes, but this was _really_ not the time. Instead she replied, "What's the mission, Vulpes?"

He didn't look at her. "You and your Spartans will travel ahead, ostensibly to find where the Lipans have gone. Well, that is relatively true. Caesar does hope that by sending you out it will lure them from their hidey-holes."

She considered this. "But you think it will end in the Lipans' victory over the Spartans."

"Our best intelligence," he said, then scoffed. "Not that we have any, but logically the Lipans couldn't have gained much ground in the two weeks since we've sighted them. But the main theory is they have situated themselves not much further south. The hill range to the southeast. They probably plan to try to ambush us when we get close. That is what I would do if I were fighting a force much bigger than myself."

"So, I get ambushed, the Lipans reveal themselves, and the rest of the Legion swoops in when they are weakened from the first battle."

"That's the plan."

"He assumes we will lose."

"The Lipans are much smaller than the Legion, but they are much larger than the Spartans."

"Haven't you sent any Frumentarii into the hills? Can't you give me anything else to work with?" she asked.

"I have. If you hadn't started spouting off treason in the middle of the meeting you would have heard the report." He looked uncomfortable. "I sent three. None returned. That suggests the enemy is there. I have, however, taken the liberty of drawing up a rough plan you might try. I know you're not good at this sort of thing yet, and I do have experience coordinating many Frumentarii. It might be helpful. As they say, though; no plan survives contact with the enemy."

She nodded. "Any word from our friend the sniper?"

"Damn it, Six!" he shouted. "If you would have just kept doing your job you would know all these things, and furthermore we wouldn't be about to throw away thirty good soldiers for punishment!" She didn't know what to say to that, so she said nothing. "Well?" he demanded.

"Well? Well what? I made my _terrible_ decisions, and now this is what it is."

"Don't you ever listen to me? You don't have to be a _sacrifice_ for those you feel responsible for," he said angrily.

She gaped at him. "I'm not-" he turned his face away. She struggled onto her knees, ignoring the shooting pain in her thigh and balancing herself with one hand on his leg. He averted his eyes. Her voice softened. "I'm not Servillia."

Instead of the anger she thought would follow that statement, there was an oppressive silence.

"You remind me of her sometimes."

Six swallowed uncomfortably. She thought he would deny it. She wasn't sure if she actually wanted to have this conversation. But then, it might be the last one she ever had with him. Last chance for answers. This is what Vulpes meant, wasn't it; bungling her way further and further into a bad situation.

Oh, well. No point in holding back now.

"I'm not her."

"Of course not. You're not like her. You haven't been."

Six groaned in frustration. "Then what? What does that mean? Why do your conversations always have to be like this?"

"Like what?"

"Like circular nonsense! No, don't change the subject."

"You asked the question."

"Why do I remind you of her if I'm nothing like her?" she demanded. "Answer the question, and when you do, _make sense_."

"Let me say it this way," he began, then stopped for a long moment before speaking again. "She didn't fit in this world," he said quietly. She had to lean in to hear him. "This broken, stinking wasteland could never touch her. She was above it all. She rarely wanted for anything. Only..."

"Only what?"

"Only me, I suppose. That's all she wanted. And only sometimes. Sometimes I think I'm the only thing that saved her. If someone else had laid claim... But sometimes I think she never needed me, or anything. That she was entirely self-contained, or, or ethereal."

He paused. Six felt like she should say something. 'Why would that possibly remind you of me?' was her first thought, but instead she went with, "Sounds lonely."

He glared at her. "It wasn't. She was never - I was never - It wasn't." He sighed. "Perhaps I am not articulating myself well."

"Perhaps not," she agreed.

He shot another glare at her, but without any heat. "She was a slave," he said. "She had no respect from anyone save me. She had coarse clothing and ate the lowest food. She was a water-carrier which was no small task. But she was happy. She was always happy. You - you have more than most in the wasteland. You are near the head of a great society. You are affecting change throughout vast regions. You are never satisfied. You take what the Gods give you and throw it away."

"What is this, how to gain freedom through submission? A lecture on happiness in slavery?"

He looked baffled. "No. Why would you think that?"

"Well, you're telling me I should be more like _her_-"

"I certainly am not. You two are so different you might as well be separate species."

Six was a little surprised how hurt she was by that statement. She didn't want to be compared to Vulpes' past love, and yet to hear it put so harshly how she would never measure up was a little upsetting. He looked at her strangely, and she looked away.

"You shouldn't endeavor to be like her. Servillia was empyreal. You are dynamic. Those things are not opposites, but in this case they might as well be. Servillia, for all her grace, would never have brought change to the Legion. She left to protect her daughter, she _died_ to do it, but she would not take action. Perhaps she did find her freedom through submission. And perhaps that is what you are doing now. Not a slave to the Legion, but a slave to your guilt. You would rather cast off your responsibilities in an effort to soothe your conscience. She sacrificed herself for her child. Now you wish to sacrifice yourself for those you feel are your responsibility. But you have opportunities she didn't, even if she'd been inclined to action. Not being like her doesn't make you worse than her. And it certainly doesn't make you less important; she was a slave, after all."

Six glanced at him. "Not to you," she said, and instantly regretted it.

"No, not to me." He smiled at her, a little sadly, she thought. "Do you want to be important to me, Six?"

"I..." She didn't know what to say. She couldn't think of a joke to deflect with. He wasn't being inappropriate, so she couldn't start an argument. It was a real question, wanting a real answer, and it was terrifying. "I think... you're rather egotistical... if you think..."

"Six," he said softly. His eyes were blue, she realized. She always thought they were grey, but they were actually a faint blue. "Would you just answer the question?"

She couldn't. All this time, work, effort, to get to her position in the Legion. She had to be independent. She had to be strong. She couldn't submit. But what did that matter? It sounded like an old, worn-out excuse now. It was all slipping away from her again, anyway. What was one more bad decision? She was so wrapped up in her thoughts that when the word, "Yes," slipped out of her mouth she barely noticed. But she couldn't miss his hand coming to cup her jaw, or the lips pressed against her wayward ones.


	26. Greeks Bearing Gifts

Etal walked up to the edge of the river where Seven and Eight were seated. He didn't waste any words.

"The Red Men have sent the Daughters out. They are approaching. If they know where we are, I think three or four days. If they do not, maybe a week until we meet them."

"Just the women?" asked Seven.

Etal nodded. "We have over one hundred Tara arrive already. They bring many weapons. And the Lipans number almost four hundred. Thirty Daughters will be a simple task."

Eight frowned. Seven looked at him. "What do you think?"

"It's a ruse," Eight said. "Has to be. Legion wouldn't do something that stupid." He shrugged. "Then again, never thought Legion would use women in the first place."

"A ruse?" Etal asked. "Try to trick us, you mean?"

Seven nodded. "That is what they do."

"They probably want to get us to show our location," said Eight. "Then come in with the big numbers."

Etal considered this. "My people are ready for a fight."

Eight shrugged again. "Five hundred against about a thousand Legion. Two to one odds. Fight if you want to."

"No," said Seven. "More Tara are coming. We need to wait for them. We cannot have the Legion find us yet. When will the rest arrive?" He asked Etal.

The tribal thought for a moment. "Four hundred more Tara? Little more than a week. Some run faster than others."

"Then we have time. We should capture the women, try to keep out of the Legion's line of sight, and wait for the rest," Seven said forcefully.

"Dunno 'bout that," Eight said. "They're probably watching them closely."

"It is our only option. We won't beat them with half their numbers."

Eight shrugged a third time. Seven rolled his eyes.

"I will speak with the Elders of the Lipans. I think they will want to fight, but I see the wisdom in waiting." Etal put his hands together in front of his chest, a sign of respect in his culture, then walked toward the main cave.

Eight raised his eyebrow at Seven. "Is this about beating the Legion or capturing your Courier?"

Seven made an irritated noise. "It is a better plan for them than fighting twice their number. And what does it matter to you? In a week or so, there will be plenty of Legion to kill."

Seven smiled wide. Eight grunted, but didn't speak. A plan was in motion. Seven didn't doubt that Six would survive the capture. If she could kill Joshua, she could survive anything.

* * *

Six didn't think about Vulpes as she led her Spartans to their deaths.

She really didn't.

The plan he gave her was basic, but it had to be. Without any of his Fumentarii returning, he had no knowledge of the area beyond the hills. Luckily, her Spartans did. She worked up a plan to go due east, then send her own scouts south. She didn't know what else to do. They needed information.

They also needed water, as Yvana never tired of telling her.

She tried not to show weakness in front of her Spartans, but her leg wound was not healing well with all this walking. What she wouldn't give for a real stimpack instead of this broc flower bullshit, but she had bastardized her only one to make the damn radscorpion sting in the first place. They moved slowly, and she pretended it was due to caution.

She didn't think of Vulpes. She had too many other things to focus on.

The nights were long, and for the first time, cold. Though maybe that was just in her mind.

The Daughters' knowledge of the area proved invaluable. Both of her scouts returned.

"There are more people at the river than would be expected," Yvana told her.

"El Tarahumara ellos se han unido. No me esperaba esto. Sus números crecen. Quinientos."

Yvana gave the scout - Isabelle, Six thought - a hard look. She looked sheepish. "Tarahumara join Lipans. Quin- five. Five... many to fight us."

Five hundred tribals ready to fight her. She, with only thirty warriors, armed with machetes and spears, and the few guns they managed to keep from their time as Daughters of Hecate. Her Spartans had not been given the better munitions usually allocated to the higher Legion ranks. A suicide mission indeed. She reviewed Vulpes' notes. A plan for scouting; for picking off few enemies at the price of a Spartan per mission. A losing battle, even if the Lipans never found them. She didn't fault him. There weren't many options.

Of course, they could run. Caesar would probably have Vulpes send Frumentarii after them. With a sizeable force in a nearby, but unknown, location he probably wouldn't spare too many legionaries to find them if they disappeared. And Vulpes... She was relatively sure that he wouldn't send his best people. After the other night... but who could say? He had to look out for himself.

There was no point to running, anyway. There was nowhere to go. She stopped a cynical laugh from bubbling up. She didn't want to alarm her subordinates, but she couldn't help feeling like she was back in the Northern Passage. Time marched on, but the battles were the same; only on a larger scale.

Perhaps it was time for a new approach. She couldn't win this battle from the outside. It was impossible. If every one of her fighters was a crack shot with a sniper rifle, maybe she would try something else. But they weren't, and they only had Six's anti-materiel rifle for long distance, and not close to five hundred rounds anyway. If there was no victory from the outside, what was left?

Six spent hours discussing logistics with Yvana and Ruth. No one was happy with the plan, but no one could think of a better one.

They would feed themselves in, two or three at a time, so they were unthreatening. Claim to be escaped prisoners, more or less. Anti-Legion, in any case. Then, when there were twenty or so women inside, enough to carry out the mission, they would poison them.

* * *

Yvana wanted to go first. Six didn't want her to, but she trusted her to get the story right. So she sent her, with only one other Spartan, bearing the news that after they had been sent out, they staged a coup, killed their Legion leader, and were now in disarray, appealing to the mercy of the Lipans in the face of a common enemy. Great plan.

If it were anyone else but Yvana, she would worry that that story would become more truth than fiction. As it was, she still worried. But there was nothing else to do but release small groups of Spartans at random intervals. Hoping, somewhat guiltily, that they followed her instructions like gospel.

Ruth was in the last group to go, and Six made a quick decision. It wasn't because she didn't trust her Spartans. More that she couldn't leave them to do this task alone. She deserved to be there if it went wrong, not hiding five miles away. She put Merrin in charge of the last eight or so women, telling her that if the plan didn't work, she should lead them anywhere she saw fit. What other instructions could she give in the face of this uncertainty?

Six felt like she was walking to her death as she travelled toward the Lipan camp, and so she considered many things. Most of them came with mixtures of regret. First, her failure at keeping her Spartans safe. The fact that they most likely would have been slaughtered by the Legion right off if she hadn't been there was not very comforting, as they were probably all about to die anyway. The countless people she had killed on her travels: the musician, a religious ghoul, a hapless couple who thought they were Bonnie and Clyde. Even Benny and Graham made an appearance on her mental list. Chalk. Selling Arcade into slavery to save Caesar's life, only to end up here, about to be killed, on purpose, in the line of Caesar's duty anyway. But she had tried to free him. That was a pleasant thought.

She then thought of the Divide, and Ulysses. All her roads. She still couldn't remember, still couldn't feel any real guilt over the destruction of Hopeville, but thinking of him led her to Andromeda, which led her back to Vulpes. Their last night together had not gone well. But, she allowed, it was better than with Chalk. Being close to people was to hurt them. It was better to push them away. She knew that now, as surely as she knew anything.

Thankfully, they soon reached the Lipan area. Two tribals came into view as they turned a corner, and they didn't attack. They welcomed. Maybe this would work, after all.

* * *

Ruth was still lending her shoulder as they entered the camp. Six's leg would need at least a week before she could walk comfortably, maybe more. The woman explained in Spanish to their Lipan escort that there had been an encounter with a radscorpion. A familiar voice, one that sent shivers through her, said, "Not good, Iss. You are allergic to the cure, no?"


	27. Our Sins are Scarlet

Her ankles and wrists were bound tightly, and the uneven floor of the cave dug into her knees. Her thigh burned from sitting awkwardly on her feet.

Four men stared down at her. Two tribals with serious expressions. A man with a sniper rifle and NCR beret, whose face was completely blank.

And Chalk.

Smiling.

The shape of Chalk's smile was burned into her memory, every happy moment they ever shared. But this was not his smile. This smile was hard. This smile was evil. This wasn't the Chalk she met, it was the Chalk she created.

He was going to kill her.

She couldn't blame him, really.

A tribal, the older of the two men, spoke in quick Spanish to the other.

"Tell us of the Red Men's plan," the younger man translated. "Why are you trying to sneak into the camp with lies?"

"Hello, Chalk," Six said. "It's good to see you."

His unhinged smile fell, replaced by a momentary sneer of disgust, but it returned.

"Good to see you, too, Iss. I was looking for you a long time. We thought to capture you, but you came here freely. Some kind of luck, eh?"

"Cállate!" shouted the older man. "Responde la pregunta."

"Huimos del Red Men," she said quietly, cutting off the translator. "Buscamos seguridad."

The man raised an eyebrow disbelievingly.

"What did she say?" Chalk asked.

"They fled the men and seek security," the translator replied.

Chalk laughed. "She is a Legion killer, Etal," he said. "She is full of lies."

"Seven dice que ella es una mentirosa," Etal told the elder.

"Convencerla para decir la verdad, entonces. Me hallaréis, quando tienes algo," the elder said, then stalked out of the cave.

Chalk looked at Etal expectantly. The translator looked uncomfortable. "He says we must convince her to speak."

Chalk's grin grew. "Good. This is what I've been waiting for."

He walked around her, out of her field of vision. The two men watched him go. Six ran through plans in her head, but they were all useless. Chalk would never let the tribals believe anything she told them. He knew her too well, now, and he looked like he only had one thing on his mind. Revenge. She could empathize. Before she killed Benny, that was all she thought about.

She knew she probably deserved it, and if anyone had the right to kill her it was Chalk. She wasn't ready to give up and die, though. All those late nights, all her regrets rushing around her head, she always imagined that if Chalk found her she would let him do it. But now that it was happening, the animal instinct for survival was strong.

She heard steps behind her, and saw Etal, the translator, wince and turn his face away. She knew what was coming a moment before it happened.

At first she didn't feel anything, and she wondered if she had been wrong. She relaxed her muscles, and suddenly the pain hit her.

"This is what Legion does to traitors, is it not?" Chalk's voice was loud in her ear. "Forty lashes? I don't think I will stop at forty, though."

At first, her mind tried to keep track of how many times the whip scorched her back and arms, but she soon lost count. She closed her eyes tightly and all she could concentrate on was gritting her teeth to stop from making embarrassing noise.

She didn't know how much time passed before she became aware of the tribal standing near her.

"Don't interfere, Etal. We need to make her talk."

"Maybe she wants to talk now," he said, and knelt down next to her. He looked concerned. "Tell us, please. We do not want to hurt you, but we need to know."

Six wanted to laugh. Of course they wanted to hurt her. Chalk, anyway, and he was the one with the whip. But she couldn't think of a believable lie.

"Where are the other women?" she asked, voice cracking.

"They are contained."

"Are they being _questioned?_" she spat.

"You are their leader, are you not? We ask you the questions."

Six tried to think. Something believable, something that wouldn't get her Spartans in any more trouble. But there wasn't anything. Even if her head wasn't swimming, and her back wasn't burning, and her leg wasn't throbbing, she doubted there was anything to say.

"Él me odia. Él quiere me hacer dolor . Él no se... preocupa por la lucha. Él va a matarme. No es importante qué lo digo," she finished quietly.

"What is she saying?" Chalk said.

Etal stared at her for a long moment, then looked up at Chalk. "She says... she says she escaped and came to us for safety, not for beating."

He scoffed. "She lies, Etal."

The man looked unsure. "You know her from before, you told us this. Maybe this is too personal for you. Maybe now you are wrong, Seven." Six didn't know if it would accomplish anything, but having the pity of this tribal was better than not having it.

"I'm not wrong," he said, voice angry. "I _do_ know her. She is a liar and a killer. Don't let her fool you."

Etal sighed heavily and stood. "Yes," he said. "Yes, I suppose you are right."

He turned away as Chalk began beating her again. Minutes later she heard him say, "You do not need me for this," and when next she opened her eyes he was gone. So much for that.

Chalk ripped through the tattered remains of her shirt to expose the skin of her back. Time moved slowly, but it felt like years. She could feel sweat, or more likely blood, soaking into the back of her pants. She could barely breathe for the pain. Her tightly closed mouth didn't stop her throat from whining. She could hear over the blood rushing in her ears the frenzied, angry sounds Chalk was making. He grew more frantic; his swings stronger and faster. Six, all reason lost, lurched forward and pitched onto her face in an effort to get away from the onslaught.

When she opened her bleary eyes she saw the NCR man holding Chalk's arm.

"You won't get anything out of her if she's dead," the man said.

"I don't care," Chalk spat. "She needs to suffer."

"You're losing it," he said quietly. Six was almost delirious, but her instincts kicked in and she strained to hear him. "This is what Legion does."

"Then it's exactly what she deserves. Eye for an eye, isn't that right, Eight? What do you care? You were ready to shoot her from the beginning."

"This is different. This is... torture."

"Do not get squeamish because she is a woman. She would do the same to you. She would sell anyone to slavery, just like your wife. Just like all of them."

The man was silent.

"No..." Six whispered, and coughed. "No, I wouldn't," she tried again. "I'm trying to stop slavery. That's why-"

"Stahp!" Chalk screamed. He kicked her hard in the side. "Shut your mouth! All that comes out is lies!"

Six wheezed and spat up blood. When she could open her eyes again, the NCR man had pulled Chalk away, his arm around Chalk's neck.

"Calm the fuck down. We need information. You lost your chance to kill her, at least for now." He released him, but watched him warily. "Why don't you go take a walk."

"It is not your place to deny me this, Boone," Chalk said quietly.

"I'm stopping you from killing a prisoner with important information. I'm doing you a favor. Now go cool down."

Chalk took one last angry look at the both of them, but when the NCR man put a hand meaningfully on his rifle, he stormed out.

The man crouched down by her and pulled her up to her knees by her shoulders.

"Please," she wheezed. "My leg. If I could just sit normally..."

He paused, but then leaned her over so she could swing her legs out from under her. She hissed as the muscle relaxed. After a few moments, though, the pain in her leg receded.

She coughed. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you were playing good questioner, bad questioner. But Chalk isn't playing at anything."

"Chalk?"

"Yeah. Whatever. Seven, I guess he's calling himself now." She smiled wanly at him. "I'm trying not to be flattered."

He raised an eyebrow at her.

"He won't be happy you embarrassed him in front of me. Guess who he'll take that out on."

He didn't say anything.

"First Recon, huh?" she tried. "Guess I found our sniper."

"You should just tell us what we want to know," he said shortly.

"Tell you what you want to hear, you mean," she said. "I already told you the truth."

"No, you didn't," he replied.

"Fair enough. Maybe not all of it. Those tribals, they wouldn't understand, anyway. You might," she said.

"Why me?"

"You're NCR, or at least used to be. You know the Legion." She waited for him to say something, but he didn't. "You know it isn't normal for them to have female warriors," she pressed.

"True," he allowed.

"That's because of me," she said, before coughing more blood onto her chin. She went to wipe it off before remembering her hands were still tied behind her. "I'm getting them to change their society. Well, I was. When I started talking about freeing the slaves, Caesar sent me on this stupid suicide mission."

"Tell me about the mission."

"There is no mission," she spat. "He sent us to get killed. I suppose he thought it might get you to reveal your location at the same time, but really he just wanted to be rid of me."

"So what are you doing here?"

"Nothing," she said bitterly. "He cast me out. I tried so hard... doesn't matter. We're nothing anymore. I'm nothing."

"Sounds like a lot of bullshit," he said.

Six laughed, or at least tried. She took a deep, shaky breath. "Yeah, it's much more likely Caesar thought thirty women could wipe out this entire tribe. That sounds like him." Boone didn't say anything. Man of few words. She gave him another weak smile. "You know this is the second time he sent me out to die? I never had a choice. I was just another slave. I don't know why I ever thought I wasn't. I don't know why I thought I could change anything." Six didn't even have to fake the tears that welled in her eyes.

Boone reached out and wiped the blood from her face.

"I think you're telling the truth," he said. He stood and walked to the entrance of the cave, then stopped. "But we all have to pay for our sins."

He left.

Six finally broke down completely and started to sob.

* * *

She didn't know how long she was alone. Hours, at least. It was completely dark. She lay there, drifting in and out of consciousness. Sometimes, she dreamed. Short memories, images, as if her mind couldn't stop circling even in sleep.

* * *

_Chalk catching potato chips in his mouth._

* * *

_Andy, squealing in delight at the gift of a toy car._

* * *

_A quiet river that grew loud and violent and red, bursting through its dam._

* * *

_A ghostly Arcade, tied by a string to a genie's lamp._

* * *

_Joshua Graham, skin rotting and bloated with water, playing a guitar on the side of the road._

* * *

_Her hands, covered in blood. It was Caesar's blood. She reached out to Vulpes, a smile on her face. His brows furrowed over his blue eyes._ Come with me, _she said, laughing._ Let's start our own Legion.

* * *

She was woken by a sound. She opened her eyes. Chalk was sitting next to her, an electric lantern on the floor next to him. She wondered vaguely where he got batteries.

The lantern was dim, and she couldn't make out his face very well in the shadows it threw.

"Good job convincing them you don't know anything, Iss," he said. "I know you are still lying, but I don't care about their war. And they don't care what happens to you anymore."

"Suppose-" she coughed violently. Her throat felt like hot asphalt. "Suppose saying I'm sorry again wouldn't change anything."

"It would only be another lie."

"No, it wouldn't."

She could make out the grim spectre of a smile. "No, it wouldn't change anything."

Six wondered if she could somehow choke him with the rope around her wrists and escape. She tried to roll over and the screaming protests from her back and arms shot that idea down before it got anywhere. Even if she managed to overpower him and... kill him... she would never be able to escape as exhausted and injured and dehydrated as she was.

She managed to sit up without whimpering. She looked over at Chalk. "So what happens now? Kill me? Or just hurt me some more?"

"I don't know," Chalk said quietly. "It is not enough. I don't know how to hurt you enough."

Six didn't know what to say to that.

"I thought of killing all your women in front of you. I think that would hurt you. But I don't know, maybe it would not."

"It would hurt you to do that," she said softly.

He laughed bitterly, but didn't speak.

"I know you hate me. You have every right," she said quickly, "I betrayed you. But I always cared about you. I never wanted to hurt you."

"Stop with your lies," he whispered.

"They aren't lies." He didn't contradict her. A small bubble of hope rose in her. "I am so sorry for all the pain I've caused you. I shouldn't have killed Graham, I know that now," she lied, "and I shouldn't have taken you with me afterward," she said truthfully. "But I did that because I care about you." That fell somewhere in the middle.

She felt guilty about lying, as she felt guilty about every lie. Her leg burned for Arcade, and her back throbbed for Chalk, and she was exhausted thinking about everyone else. But in the knowledge of her likely death, and the even higher likelihood of more pain, she didn't spare the guilt much thought. She didn't want to die. Maybe Chalk deserved his peace, but as long as he was prevaricating, she would try her damnest. Besides, who could say that he wouldn't get more peace by letting her go? He wasn't a violent soul. He shouldn't be. And maybe that was selfish rationalization, but she didn't really have time for navel gazing.

He still wasn't speaking, or looking at her. She started to panic a little. "I was raised by tribals. I didn't know, I couldn't remember it. I only found out after..." She knew she was babbling, but she couldn't stop. "Maybe that's why I got stuck on you. You reminded me of myself, even though I couldn't remember. You wanted to explore-"

"I am nothing like you!" he shouted. He stood up quickly, delivering a sharp kick to her injured leg. She cried out in pain and fell to her side. "Nothing!" He left the cave, knocking over the lantern as he went.

She stared at the dim light as her vision blurred with tears. It rolled a little before coming to a stop against a rock. Both of them, kicked and beaten and topsy-turvy.

The light flickered and went out.


	28. In the Light

Logically, Six was in the cave for five days. Her mind was not so far gone that she missed the rising and setting of the sun. But it felt like years. It felt like an eternity. At times, it felt like the only life she'd ever known, and her memories were only dreams.

Chalk had tried the whip on her again a few times, but he stopped quickly. The last time, she thought she heard a choked sob before he fled the cave. Now he just sat a few feet away and stared blankly at the wall. She tried to speak to him sometimes, but he was much more likely to kick her if she was talking, so she fell into silence as well.

This quiet, dejected Chalk was troubling her. At least when he was violent she could imagine escape scenarios, even if none of them would work. But she knew she wouldn't be able to leave this cave without killing him. He may not be sure what to do with her now that he had her, but she bet that wouldn't stretch to letting her walk away. And now that he wasn't whipping her anymore, the thought of killing him filled her with all the old guilt.

The sniper walked quickly into the cave and crouched down next to Chalk.

"There's something wrong with the tribals," he said urgently. "All of them. Some are collapsing, unconscious, some are throwing up, some are raving. They might get dangerous. Some kind of sickness. We should get out of here."

Chalk didn't look at him, just stared at the wall. Six tried not to smile. Her Spartans were succeeding.

Etal stumbled in after him. He had vomit on his clothing. "The river. It is poisoned. Don't drink the water! Don't touch it! Ricin. So much. They must have spoiled it further up river." He held out a shaking arm, pointing at Six. "Part of her plan. Must be."

He collapsed onto his knees, dry heaving, then fell motionless to the ground.

The sniper turned to look at her, and she didn't school her expression fast enough. He unholstered a 10MM pistol. "Time to pay up, Courier."

"No," said Chalk. The sniper stared at him. Chalk stood up and held out his hand. "Let me."

He gave him the weapon. Chalk fingered it for a few moments, as though seeing a pistol for the first time.

"Go," he told his partner.

The man hesitated. Outside, shots began to ring out.

"The Legion are come," he said quietly. "Go find your peace."

The man put a hand on Chalk's shoulder. "Find yours too, brother."

Chalk continued to stare down at the gun as the sniper left.

"Hurting you isn't enough," he told her. "No matter how much of your blood I spill, Joshua is still dead. I am still betrayed. You are right that I cannot kill your women to bring you pain. It is wrong, and it would hurt me too much to do so. Destroying your Legion, I thought I wanted that. But they are not part of this. It is just you and me, Iss. But killing you... killing you. That would just end your suffering." He closed his eyes. "So what is left for me?" he asked softly.

"Chalk..." she said carefully. She wasn't sure what was happening, but she was uneasy. She didn't like this attitude, she didn't like how he was staring at the pistol as if it were salvation. "Let's talk about this..."

He ignored her. "I hope you are telling the truth, Iss. I hope you do care for me. Maybe then this will bring you pain."

He raised the gun to his temple.

"Chalk, _no!_" She strained against her bonds and fell to her face.

A loud crack echoed off the cave walls, along with another sound. A high-pitched, keening siren. Were her eardrums blown out?

His body fell to the ground next to her. She opened her eyes and saw his face. She choked off a sob and the keening noise stopped. One eye was open, staring at her. Light brown iris almost completely swallowed by a huge, dilated pupil. The other side of his face... well. He got his wish. It would surely haunt her the rest of her days.

She lay, sobbing, in the growing pool of Chalk's blood. Her mind wasn't racing anymore. She felt no panic. No fear. Not even sadness, for all her tears. She felt nothing.

* * *

Her women came to her. Yvana kneeled next to her in the blood, pushing the matted hair from her face. Someone, Merrin, Six thought, cut the rope around her wrists and ankles. What a picture, she thought wildly. What a Goddess I am now.

_Just leave me. Leave me be._ She didn't speak to them. She couldn't.

Her body was weak. They carried her, she didn't know where. She didn't want to go anywhere. Everyone's road came to an end. In her head, she was still in a cave with Chalk. She thought of Ulysses. He had stopped walking his road. What a comfort that must be. After some time, they lowered her into a shallow stream. Someone removed her pants and the blood-soaked rag of a shirt from her body and washed her gently. She was laid onto a blanket on the ground. She could feel someone rubbing something into the gnarled gashes on her back. It hurt, but at the same time, it didn't really matter. It felt like atonement. It couldn't hurt enough. They should have left her.

She lost track of time. It might have been minutes, hours, days. She didn't know. She didn't even think about it. She simply existed.

And Chalk didn't.

* * *

_Chalk threw a potato chip at her. She missed. She was confused, and frustrated. How long had they been doing this? She missed all of them. "I'm not good at this, Chalk," she said. _

_"It's no problem," Chalk laughed. He scooted up to her and pressed a chip against her lips. "I just have to get closer to you." _

_She smiled._

* * *

_"What is this?" she asked._

_"Some roads are pavement. Some roads are paint. Some roads you make yourself," Ulysses told her._

_She looked down at the path in front of her. It was outlined in chalk._

_"But what if it rains?" she protested. "It will wash away."_

_"Walk the road, Courier. It's all you can do."_

_She looked back and the outline was gone, but she left footprints of bright white._

* * *

_"Don't you ever shut up?" Vulpes yelled at her. "Maybe this will make you be quiet."_

_He raised the pistol to his temple._

* * *

_A quiet river that grew large and violent and red. It broke through its dam._

* * *

"Qué si ella nunca despertarse?"

"She will wake," a harsh voice replied.

"Qué si la Diosa dejó?"

"She _is_ the Goddess. And she will wake."

* * *

_"The force is too large," Yvana said. "We will not win."_

_Six disagreed. This had all happened already. "We can win," she said. "The Goddess wills it. We just need a sacrifice."_

_She had a toy car in her hand. She held it out to Andromeda. "Come here, Andy. I have a present for you."_

_The car was covered in blood, but the girl took it with a delighted smile._

* * *

_"It's just rain, Iss," Chalk said comfortingly._

_She was scared of the storm, but Chalk was warm with her inside the sleeping pouch. She put her arms around him._

_"Can I kiss you?" she asked._

_"Tomorrow," he said. "That's for tomorrow."_

* * *

_Arcade, on a cross. Chalk, on a cross. Vulpes. Yvana. Ruth. Graham. Benny. Oliver. Andromeda. Caesar. Crosses as far as the eye could see. Six had a handful of nails._

* * *

_"What do you say, Iss? Will you travel with me?"_

_Six smiled and nodded. Graham waved farewell as they made their way north out of the Utah. Toward freedom._

* * *

After some amount of time, she felt something again. Something stirring in her heart. How fitting her first emotion would be guilt.

Her women were all waiting for her. Chalk wasn't the only one she was indebted to, after all. Others still had claims.

If only they had left her in the cave. What a blessing that would have been. A chance to stop walking. But now, the road was in front of her again. She gathered her physical and mental strength, then pushed herself up into a seated position.

"Ah! La Diosa!"

"I'm fine," she mumbled as they rushed to her. "I'm fine."

She looked around at the women. Their faces were worried, their clothes were dirty and some were bloody. But they were here. They were alive.

"Yvana," she said briskly. Or, tried to. She started coughing immediately. Yvana came to her with water that she drank down greedily.

"Yvana," she said again. "Status report."

"Nine Spartans dead, sir. Enemy is all dead. The Lipans and four hundred Tara. There are surely still Tara moving into the area, but they are few and have no one to join."

"Who of us died?" Six looked around. "Ruth? Where is Ruth?"

Yvana bowed her head. "Ruth is dead. Isabelle, Mercedes, Marie, Sophia, Luci, Emma, Paula, and Emily. Some died in battle. Some died... we couldn't be warned that the river was poisoned. There was no way to contact us. Merrin had scouts watching, she saw that we were captured. She poisoned the river. Lucky for us, there were too many for the small river, anyway. We weren't given much water."

Six processed this. "Merrin, you poisoned the river? That wasn't your orders."

Merrin bowed her head. "I thought-"

"You thought right. It was a great plan. Why didn't you say it before we all walked into capture?"

"I didn't think of it, Trivia. We saw you captured and circled the camp. I found another large growing of castor beans to the south. Enough to poison the river."

"Well, excellent job," Six said. Merrin blushed, but looked pleased. "I think that will warrant a promotion."

"After most of the tribe was sick, we broke from our guards and took their weapons," continued Yvana. "It was easy, then."

Six smiled weakly at them. "You have all done very well. Even I was unsure of our success, but you have conquered unbeatable odds. You should all be proud of yourselves."

"We heard the guards talking," Jonas burst in from behind the other women. "How you would not speak, though you were being hurt. We heard your screams. But you did not stop. You gave us hope."

Six didn't even remember screaming. She was embarrassed to know they heard her, that they knew she beaten, helpless. Embarrassed that a pregnant woman she was supposed to protect had to fight to rescue her. But none of them looked ashamed, even after she spent the last however many days lying despondent. They still trusted her. They still believed in her.

She swallowed down on the lump in her throat. She nodded to Jonas, then turned to Yvana. "We must speak alone," she said thickly, trying to keep tears at bay.

Yvana cleared the women away as efficiently as she did everything.

"Sorry, I just need a minute," Six said.

Yvana nodded crisply and kneeled down next to her, head bowed. She waited while Six cried.

"Sorry," she said again. "I just - I'm so proud. Of all of you. I thought - I thought I was going to die in that cave. I thought we were all going to die."

"We will always fight for you, sir," Yvana said.

"Let me ask you, Yvana," she said slowly. "Do all the Spartans think that I am a goddess?"

Yvana hesitated. "Many do, sir. Some of them... they just want something to believe in. Someone to believe in."

Six hesitated. "What do you believe?"

"I believe," Yvana started, then stopped. "I believe you are worth believing in," she said simply.

Before she could choke up again she turned back to business. "We need to send out some scouts. See what the rest of the Legion is doing. Has that happened yet?"

Yvana nodded. She, too, looked relieved to leave the heavy subject behind. "They have stayed in their position. Some of their scouts were seen at the Lipan camp yesterday, but we did not make contact with them. I thought it best to wait for your orders."

"That's fine," Six said. "We will go to them. You're sure all the Lipans and Tara are dead?"

"Our scouts haven't seen survivors. If any escaped from the camp, they will be few. And any Tara that were still making their way to the camp will also be in small groups, more likely one at a time. They do not run together."

"Then we can start moving soon."

* * *

Six's leg was worse for the wear after five days in bondage, and her back and arms ached terribly. Some of the Spartans built a sedan chair from tree limbs and woven vines. It made Six very uncomfortable. But then, so did walking. And if she walked, she would hold the group up more than if they were carrying the litter.

And for some reason, they were just so happy when she sat in it. She knew, logically, that if Chalk hadn't killed himself he would likely have been killed by the Spartans, or by the poisoned water, or by the Legion. He wasn't her only casualty. In this battle alone, her thirty women had killed eight hundred tribals. But she still felt like her success was bought with his blood.

* * *

She made them abandon the chair when they reached the camp. She walked in herself, slowly and stiff-backed, straight to Caesar's tent.

The look on his face was almost as good as when she came back from the Utah.

"I assume the Frumentarii already told you the tribal camp is destroyed," she said as an opener.

"Yes," he said. Then he laughed. "Damn, Six. You sure deliver."

"Over eight hundred tribals, and only nine casualties. I suppose I do."

He gave her a strange look. "Why can't I just kill you and be done with this?"

She smiled back at him. "Perhaps I, too, am favored by the gods, son of Mars."

He raised an eyebrow. "I'm beginning to think you are."

"Perhaps they are trying to tell you something. Maybe that I am a person worth listening to."

He eyed her suspiciously. She knew Vulpes would rail at her for this conversation, but she didn't care. She thought she was going to die in a cave not long ago, had wanted to, and the thought of returning to a life where Caesar viewed her as a novel, but ultimately unimportant, piece on his chess board was appalling. It was time to go all in.

"Perhaps you are. What is it your Spartans call you?"

"Trivia, Caesar."

"Is that who you are? Goddess of the ghosts?"

She smiled sadly. "Perhaps I am."

He was quiet for a time. "Such a minor goddess. Would you like to claim Diana instead? Minerva?"

She shook her head. What a strange conversation. Not at all what she expected when she came here. But that was Caesar.

"We don't chose our names," she said. "I am not the goddess of wisdom, nor the hunt. If I am anything, goddess of ghosts is what I am. After all," she said, only slightly sarcastically, "you didn't chose Mars, Mars chose you. Right?"

Instead of answering, he took in her appearance. She was wearing one of her Spartan's shirts, but her pants were still torn and no amount of rinsing in the river could get rid of the blood. The injury to her thigh was unbandaged and she was leaning on a stick for support.

"You have exceeded my expectations once again. You and your women. I would be a fool if I didn't accept the truth laid out before me. I never thought..." He shook his head. "You should be treated for your injuries. We will talk more, later." He cocked his head to the side. "But be comforted in the knowledge that your place in the Legion is secure."

She wondered, as Yvana walked with her to Arcade, if he was frightened of her.


	29. Ghosts and Crossroads

"These are going to leave nasty scars. You should have come to me right away," Arcade admonished.

She looked at him for a moment, mouth open, before she realized he was teasing her. "I was a bit busy," she said. Then quietly added, "And I think the scars are probably deserved."

Arcade paused as he applied antiseptic. "Why do you say that?" he asked.

She looked up at him. She hadn't told him that she ignored his warnings about Chalk in the past. And she didn't want to tell the whole story yet. She might never be able to do that, so she just said, "The past leaves scars. Seems right."

"Alright, keep your secrets," he said.

She smiled at him. "Just another reminder to always follow your advice."

He sighed and sat down next to her. "Thank you, Six."

"For what?"

"For what," he repeated drily. "For trying to free me. I know that mission he sent you on was punishment. Supposed to be suicide. You knew you were risking your life for me, in more than one way. So, thank you."

"Welcome, I guess." Six shrugged, then hissed as her wounds stretched. "It didn't work."

"It's the thought that counts."

"Yeah," she said blankly. Suddenly, she did want to tell him. She wanted to tell him everything. Arcade always knew best. So she did.

* * *

"Well, it makes sense. If you're a little crazy, which it sounds like he was. If he killed you, he would still have to live with the pain. So he killed himself. Now you live with it. Perfect revenge, if, like I said, you're crazy."

"But I did that," Six said. "I made him crazy."

"Suicide is never..." Arcade trailed off. Instead he said, "Yeah. You did. What will you do now?"

"I don't know," she replied. "I've sort of been running on autopilot. There's still stuff going on. People I'm responsible for. But it feels like I'm disrespecting him again. Just by living."

"Well. That's kind of true."

"Thanks."

"But again, what will you do?" he asked. "Kill yourself? Give up on your goals? It seems like at this point you still have a lot of bad karma to make up for. The only way to set it right is to keep moving forward."

"Right," she said blankly. "How many slaves do I need to free to make up for Chalk's life?"

Arcade sighed heavily, and cleaned his glasses on his shirt before placing them back on his face. "I don't know, Six. All of them. As many as you can."

He smiled at her. She smiled back. She missed this Arcade. The one that didn't hate her. If Arcade stopped hating her, she must be making right decisions. Or at least better ones. He reached out as if to put a hand on her shoulder then pulled it back, remembering her wounds.

"Just do the best you can," he said. "There was a long time I was worried, Six. I thought you only cared about yourself. Honestly though, going by the evidence, I can't really be faulted for reaching that conclusion." Six rolled her eyes. "But you really stuck your neck out for me, with no gain for yourself; only harm. I think you've come a long way. You could let the guilt of this consume you. I know by now that you like the sound of poetic justice. _Or,_ you could deal with it and try to keep doing good work. Poetry is for books. It's for people who can't help any other way. I mean, if you decide not to demolish this atrocious society with your fearsome goddess powers, the least you can do is fix it."

She laughed. "I can't even fix myself. Maybe I _should_ just write a book. Sounds easier." At his look she sobered, and asked quietly, "You... do you think I can?"

"You know, Six? I actually do." He poked at her leg. "Unfortunately, I don't think your fearsome goddess powers will work on regenerating this thigh muscle. You might have a permanent limp."

"Well, you always were a thorn in my side. Might as well make it literal."

* * *

Six crutched her way over to where her Spartans were setting up camp. Yvana met her and led her to a tent. She wasn't irritated that they put her bedroll in the biggest tent, the one usually used for briefings. Her whole body ached and she just wanted to lay down.

* * *

A few mornings later she strolled slowly through the camp with Caesar, relying heavily on her stick. Arcade said it was good for her leg to keep moving, but it still ached. They discussed logistics for a while. The Tarahumara tribals who were late reaching the Lipan camp had been scooped up and were assimilating relatively easily when faced with a thousand trained soldiers. It would be good for the Legion, if the Tara could be trusted. They had the fastest messengers she'd ever seen. The sniper hadn't been found. Six didn't know if that meant he was killed by her Spartans or if he'd escaped and was laying low. The man had looked hardy.

"I want to tell you something, Six," Caesar said.

"Go ahead, Caesar," she replied.

He gave her a look, but he did not correct her on her decorum.

"When I started out, I was a Follower. Of the Apocalypse," he began.

"You've said."

"I considered myself a learned man. I was interested in the old books, but I didn't believe in any religions. When I started to build my society, I chose Rome as a template, and thus the Roman Gods. I chose Mars, the god of war, as my symbol. I didn't believe..." He fell silent as a legionary drew near to them. At Caesar's expression, he veered and changed course. "But then I started winning," he continued. "Some battles I won at extreme odds. Much like yours. I started to wonder if maybe... Maybe I called out to Mars and he answered me." He glanced at her, then back in front of him. "I know you chose Trivia because it fit easily into the Daughters of Hecate's own religion. But I wonder if that act didn't call her down to you, or up to you in Trivia's case, as perhaps I called Mars to me."

Even Caesar thought she had godly powers now. What was the world coming to?

She glanced over at him.

She wasn't really in a rush to dissuade him, though. If he thought she spoke with the authority of a godly being, he would likely listen to her more.

It made her a little sick to think how quickly she was falling back into her old life. Chalk's blood still coated her hands in her dreams each night. But this was the path to a better world. It was her duty. She believed that unequivocally, even if she was ambivalent about the deities.

"Many of the old texts show testimony of gods answering mortals when requested. If we accept those books as truth, who can say?" she replied.

"Who can say," he repeated. "Arcade tells me there is no evidence. That the books, and the gods, are only a story. But he only accepts truth that can be measured. Just because we can't measure it doesn't mean it's false." She nodded. He sighed. "Doesn't mean it's true, either."

They reached the edge of the camp and stopped walking. She looked over at him again. He looked uncertain. And he looked tired. Six could empathize with that. "Our lives are roads, Caesar. We chose the one that looks best, and we walk."

He grinned at her. "Trivia, goddess of the crossroads."

Indeed.

* * *

She had been avoiding Vulpes' area of the camp. He must know she was back, but he hadn't sought her out. Probably because of how badly she reacted the last time they were together. Perhaps he was embarrassed. Perhaps he was just giving her space. She felt strangely calm after her chat with Caesar, though, and she felt it was time to talk to him.

She pushed back the flap of his tent and entered, leaning on her walking stick.

He glanced at her, then back down to his papers. "I hear Caesar is ready to elevate you to the level of the god-born. It seems you are incomprehensibly good at suicide missions. Or bad at them, I suppose."

"I didn't really do anything," she said, lowering herself carefully onto his bedroll. "It was my Spartans."

"Getting comfortable? I thought you were staying in the women's camp now."

"Give me a break, my whole body hurts," she said, without heat.

He still didn't look at her. "Then, by all means, make use of my furnishings. One can't resist the will of the gods."

She ignored that. "I just wanted to see you. See how you're doing."

He paused in his writing. "I suppose I'm to believe that you care."

"How well do you know me?" she asked.

He turned to face her. "Not as well as I thought. Why are you really here?"

She fingered the gauze around her leg. "I wanted to apologize." He didn't say anything. "I said some terrible things after you - after we... well. I was scared."

He raised an eyebrow. "And I suppose being scared is justification for telling me I am an imbecilic rapist whose sociopathic tendencies will lead me to die alone?"

She looked down and blushed. "I didn't say _that._"

"I paraphrased for brevity's sake."

She continued to fidget with her bandages. "I don't like to get close to people," she said quietly. "The last person I... he just killed himself in front of me. Because he wanted to hurt me. Because I fucked him up that much." She looked over at Vulpes. "And he was relatively normal before he met me. Just think what would happen to us."

His eyes were wide. "Who killed themselves?"

"Chalk."

"Your tribal - he was at that camp?"

She nodded.

Vulpes looked utterly flummoxed. If it weren't for the despair that rose when thinking about Chalk, she might have laughed.

"Don't worry. You don't have to say anything about it. There isn't anything to say." She hoped he would take the hint, and not try to _find_ something to say. "I'm just explaining why. Why I don't think it's a good idea for me to... be close to anyone."

He turned away. "I respect that. In fact, I am pleased you feel that way. It was a moment of weakness, that is all. I didn't mean anything by it."

"Well, good, then."

"Yes. Good."

Neither of them spoke for a while. There wasn't much left to say about that.

But the silence was uncomfortable, and Six longed to break it. "I think I might retire. Go live in Flagstaff."

He stared at her. "You're leaving?"

"Not now. Have to make sure this whole Spartan thing works out. I just lost a third of my people. Who knows what crap Caesar would pull if I weren't around to stop him? Plus, I think I might be able to convince him to do something about the slaves, in a while." She paused, considering. "But I have been thinking about it the past few days. I think I'd like to retire. I think I'd be good at that."

He snorted. "Good at what? Doing nothing?"

"Might take up gardening," she said airily. "Or breeding dogs." She eyed him. "Maybe it's time to stop back through _Primm_."

He looked away. "We're not ready."

"No. But in a few months? A year?" she asked. "I'm Trivia now. People listen to me. I think changes will be happening quickly."

"I remember when you hated the idea that people thought you were more than human."

"And I remember when you told me I shouldn't throw away what the gods give me."

"My, my. Are you religious now, Six?"

"No," she said, laying down on the bedroll. She shifted onto the side with her good leg. "But you can't measure everything." She was paraphrasing her earlier conversation with Caesar, but it had been a good one, and Vulpes wouldn't know. "You can't measure _any_ of the important things, really." She yawned. "You just keep moving, and you hope it's the right direction."

"Very profound." He looked over and saw her laying down. "Is my bed the right direction?" He grinned wickedly, but Six didn't think his heart was in it. Not the wicked part, at least.

"Shut up. My leg hurts. Don't be a dick." She closed her eyes.

He chuckled. He extinguished the light and she felt him lay down next to her. He left space behind her still-tender back.


	30. Vulpes - Flawed Beings

Vulpes has spent a lot of time living under a tyrant. Now he's worried there may be two.

She infuriated him on a regular basis.

He managed to keep that behind closed doors, or at least closed tent flaps. He was a Frumentarius, and more he was a logical man. She was a tremendous asset. He wouldn't do anything to seriously damage their working relationship.

Which was why, in retrospect, Vulpes was pleased she spurned his advances.

He regretted kissing her. It had been a moment of rare weakness. Thinking about Servillia's death, and knowing it was likely the last time he would ever see Six alive, caused him to grow maudlin.

Her outburst shocked him initially, considering she had returned the kiss at first. But he couldn't deny that everything she said was, if not entirely, at least relatively true. One could make the argument that taking any action against the Legion was imbecilic, or that becoming so attached to a slave had been as well. He _was _also a rapist. Not that the Legion held that in any kind of negative esteem, and he hadn't engaged in such behaviors since before Servillia, but the accusation still stood. A sociopath, too, in the sense that he substituted his own morality for society's. But dying alone? Here Vulpes scoffed. Everyone died alone.

At least he wasn't a hypocrite. All the criticism she flung at him could be equally applied to herself.

He didn't tell her that, though. She was going off on a suicide mission, and there was no reason to burden her with extra knowledge and emotions when she needed her wits about her. He let her scream out her frustration and leave on her own terms.

When she returned, neither of them broached the subject again after their first conversation. Much more beneficial to the both of them that they didn't add another dynamic to their already often strained alliance. By going back to normal it was a tacit agreement that Six forgave Vulpes his weakness, and Vulpes forgave Six her overreaction. They were both flawed beings, after all.

He reached this conclusion as he did almost every evening for the past four weeks since Six had returned. He considered undressing for an early night's sleep to escape the useless thoughts when he was interrupted by a messenger from Caesar.

He welcomed the intrusion. He walked quickly, as though to physically distance himself from mental weakness, and attempted to anticipate what Caesar's summons concerned. It was unlikely that he had received any more information from Flagstaff, but not impossible. Perhaps the in-fighting in the senate was over, and they had selected a new governor. Or it had escalated, and they would turn back north toward the old capitol. Snipers, tribals, food spoilages, issues with the Spartans all ran through his head as he walked. It was good to be ready for any eventuality.

When he reached the tent, Six exited. She looked angry. She saw him approach and made a beeline for him. She grasped his arm and led him away from Caesar's tent.

"I've been summoned-"

"I know," she cut him off harshly. "He fucking - I'm just glad I got there early. He was going to just tell us!"

Vulpes pressed for more information, but she just shook her head. "Too many ears," she whispered. "I shouldn't have said so much already."

He was alarmed, but schooled his features. Did Caesar know she was waylaying him from the meeting? Ignoring a summons could get you forty lashes, even if you were Vulpes Inculta. He didn't speak, though. He felt strangely tongue-tied. Her grip on his arm was strong as she pulled him away. He could break free, but not without causing a scene. Aside from his usual aversion to causing scenes, he had a vague notion that it would be worse to do so now than ever before.

She pulled him into her tent in the Spartan area of the camp. He hadn't been here since before her suicide mission-cum-massive victory, and he noticed that her accommodations were now much larger than his own. As large as Caesar's, perhaps.

She finally let go of his arm, but didn't speak, and didn't look at him. Instead she muttered to herself and began rifling through the papers on her desk. To Vulpes' trained eyes, she wasn't looking for anything but a distraction from whatever she was upset about.

"Something on your mind?" he asked, allowing a hint of irritation into his tone.

She slammed the papers down. "I got there early. If I hadn't, he would have just said. In front of both of us. Just told us!"

"What-"

"I don't want to be disrespectful to him in front of other people. I really don't. How he thought that he could just throw that out there, I don't know."

Vulpes noted the phrase _in front of other people_, but left it alone for now. "If I may make a deduction," he said, "you're upset Lord Caesar didn't consider your feelings before speaking to you?"

Some of the steam went out of her. "Well, when you say it like that," she said sarcastically, then sighed. "That's why I didn't want to say anything until we were alone. Because I don't want people to think I'm disrespectful to him. But _he_ \- he should know better!"

Vulpes felt uneasy again, and wasn't sure why. He had listened to her say many treasonous things, said and done many himself. This was different.

"What did he say, Six?"

She sat down heavily in her desk chair and absently massaged her leg. The profligate doctor said it would likely never heal entirely. "There's going to be a ceremony next week. To elevate me - well, that's not the right word. To tell everyone that I'm God-born." She paused.

He raised an eyebrow. "I know the thought makes you uncomfortable, but -"

"It's not that," she said with a wave of her hand. "I've known about that for days. We talked about it. Today he was going to tell us that that means our marriage will be dissolved."

With a great effort, Vulpes managed to make his mouth work. "And you're upset about that?"

She glared at him. "Would you focus, please?"

Her attitude cut through his shock. "I am. I don't understand why you would care-" She sighed again, and Vulpes wanted to slap her. "It was never a real marriage, as you said yourself _many times_. As it hasn't been necessary to your position for a long time I can't see why you'd have an issue with it."

"You can't see why I'd take issue with someone who is my religious equal getting my husband and I together to inform us we are no longer married, without even speaking to _me_ about it first?" she asked, incredulous.

The queasiness in his stomach cemented, and he knew what the problem was.

She was higher in the Legion than he was.

The thought took a few moments to sink in. Both Lucius and Lanius were above him in succession, but structurally the three were equal. They had no ability to control his daily life. He could even tell them off in public if he wanted to, and they couldn't punish him for it. Caesar was the only one to whom he needed to kowtow.

But now there were two.

Someone so powerful that she could challenge Caesar himself, if only in private.

He had no doubt that if Six ordered him forty lashes for missing a summons, Caesar wouldn't even blink an eye.

"I... I suppose I can see why that would upset you," he said slowly.

"We're staying married," she said with finality.

"If that is what you think is best," he replied.

"I do. He needs to understand that we're equals now. Not necessarily in the Legion hierarchy. I mean, he's still the commander of this army, and when it comes to battle I'll listen to him. But personally, he has no right to dictate what I do. And people already think our marriage is a sham, and I can see why. We haven't acted like man and wife in a long time. I didn't think it was important, but with all the fucking hoopla about it, now..." She rolled her eyes. "I don't want to give them any excuse to accuse me of scheming."

"That certainly seems to be the logical course of action." He was shocked and a little appalled to discover how easy it was to speak to her as if she were Caesar. He imagined momentarily how shaming it would be to accidentally call her 'my Lord'. He tried to brush it off. She had power. He should just accept it. It was what they had been working for, after all. This was success.

She didn't see the change in his behavior. She was wrapped up in her own thoughts. He created this, he reminded himself. But he never expected _this_ situation. Crucifixion was always a possibility, he knew, but this was something he had not foreseen.

He was bothered by how much it bothered him.

He tried to change the direction of his thoughts, ignore this feeling until he could escape it. He wanted to ask why Caesar would do such a thing as elevate her to be his religious equal in the first place. Did he actually believe she was the daughter of a Goddess? It was a question he wouldn't have hesitated with before. But now, with instincts drilled in him from long years serving under a capricious dictator, it seemed like a question he should keep to himself lest be thought of as disrespectful, or over-reaching his position.

His stomach knotted further with every passing second. He needed to leave this tent. He wasn't prepared for this eventuality. He needed to get away. Make a plan. Figure out how to deal with this.

"I should go to Caesar," he said.

Six didn't look up, just waved her hand dismissively again. "No need. I'll see him later. I'll tell him what we decided."

_What 'we' decided?_ He thought incredulously. "Forgive me, but if Lord Caesar sends me a summons I am still going to answer it," he said, with a hint of bite in his tone.

"There's really no need. I said I would talk to you, so he isn't expecting you anymore." She swiveled in her chair to face her desk and sighed. "Yvana is busy training with the Tara, so now I need to redo all these work rotas myself. They still have Onawa listed on them." She shuffled papers for a few moments. Vulpes had very little idea what she was talking about. She looked up at him. For a moment, it almost felt normal again. Her complaining about paperwork, him trying to help her before she got frustrated and threw it on the ground. It was on his tongue to ask what happened to this Onawa, but she said, "You can go. I'll be working on these for hours."

He couldn't stop his lip from curling at that remark, but she wasn't looking anymore.

* * *

He went back to Caesar's tent, of course. The Lady Trivia wasn't his only master.

Caesar was alone but for Praetorians, studying a text.

"I apologize for my tardiness, Lord," he said.

The man didn't look up as he said, "I wasn't expecting you anymore, so you could call yourself early."

Vulpes waited for a few seconds. When Caesar remained silent he said, "If that is the case, I apologize for the disruption. I will take my leave, if it pleases you."

Caesar merely grunted. Vulpes refrained from gritting his teeth as he turned away.

* * *

Vulpes avoided Six for days. It was so easy he could barely call it avoidance. She stayed in her own area of the camp except for her private meetings with Caesar. She didn't even show up in the evening with everyone else. He supposed she already knew the information that was handed down to them, and more besides.

He knew the anger was petty. He tried to push it down. It wasn't rational. He admitted he was, perhaps, a somewhat arrogant man. But he hadn't known he was egotistical enough to feel such jealousy at her position. Her superior attitude in their last conversation still made his blood boil. She expected him to understand her frustration at Caesar for annulling their marriage while never realizing her decision to keep it intact without asking his opinion was just as tyrannical.

Then again, her hypocrisy was nothing new, he reminded himself.

"Inculta!" called a voice from outside his tent.

"Enter, Lanius," he responded.

He rose and fetched a folding chair from the corner of his tent and set it up for the Legate as he entered. He still had his manners, he thought grimly.

They sat across from each other. Lanius, as always, wasted no time on pleasantries.

"I come to you in confidence, Inculta. There is no love lost between us, and we have many differences. But I do not know who else I could trouble with my thoughts. I come here in strict loyalty to Caesar, though my words will not be pleasant."

Vulpes raised one eyebrow a small amount, enough to show interest and slight incredulity. "If you have concerns, Lanius, I would hear them. I do not doubt your devotion to Lord Caesar."

"My concern is for his health. He is not complaining of headaches, but he cuts our evening meetings short. Spends much time alone in his tent. Takes his meals in solitude, or with the woman and the profligate doctor. Surely these things you have noticed."

His face was hidden behind his mask, but Vulpes could see where this conversation was going. "You think the brain tumor is back?" he asked.

"Perhaps. It was a profligate slave who cured him in the first place, and I never trusted his skill or his integrity. A tumor or some other lingering sickness; either way, it worries me."

"I understand your caution, but surely these few things are no proof of sickness."

Lanius was silent for a moment. "Perhaps not, but there are other indicators. You and the woman have been close, but the mockery of marriage between you has long since been spent."

"Excuse me?" he asked.

"It is clear her ambitions have outstripped you, but if you still harbor a personal attachment to her there are certain details which might have escaped your notice."

Vulpes smiled coldly. "So you say I am both a tool and a fool?"

"Or that you share her ambitions. But I must hope it is the former," he said, "or I have made a grave mistake in coming here." The offhand accusation of treason startled him, but Lanius continued speaking as if it were nothing. "Even if you haven't seen the way he treats her, you must have heard his plans for her."

"I have," Vulpes admitted. "But it sounds, Lanius, as though you are merely resentful that she is achieving such a high rank. Higher, indeed, than both of us."

"Does that not worry you?" he asked. "Does it not worry you that Caesar is putting one who deserves slave rags at his right side?" He leaned toward him. "Either Caesar is being manipulated by the profligate and the woman, or he sincerely believes her to have godly blood. Both indicate mental sickness."

"He says he is the son of Mars. Who better to know of such lineage?"

Lanius paused, then leaned back in his chair, away from Vulpes. "I suppose if you believe that, there is nothing for us to talk about."

"It has little to do with what I believe," Vulpes said, "and everything to do with the will of Caesar."

"But if he is compromised," Lanius pressed. "If his judgment is faulty due to sickness? Most likely, we will soon march to Flagstaff. With a self-proclaimed goddess! The senators there are already fighting each other over who will take over Augustus' role. If Caesar is not in control of his own mind-"

"What are you saying, Lanius?" he cut him off.

"She will ruin the Legion, Inculta. It is happening already. You must know this, in your heart. And with Caesar helping her every step of the way, is it so surprising to think his malady has returned?"

"I understand your concerns, Lanius, and I mark them, but I am not yet convinced. You admit he is not suffering headaches, or any of his previous symptoms. You take only his actions as proof of illness, and I would warn you against it, lest others accuse _you_ of ambition." He stood, signaling that the conversation was at an end.

Lanius rose and stepped close to him. "And I would warn _you_, Inculta," he said. There was anger in his voice, a contrast to the blank mask. "Her own ambition, and her loyalty, are not to your benefit, whatever your aims. No one believes in this falsehood of a marriage, and she has grown past it being of any use to her. I wouldn't be surprised to hear soon that only god-born can marry god-born, and where will your advantage be, then?"

He strode from the tent.

Vulpes had a strong desire to laugh. Lanius may think they were seditious, and he would have been right if he'd levelled that accusation earlier. But it was too late. They had already won. Any act by Lucius against Six would be treason, now. And soon, it would be sacrilege.

He did laugh then, and if it held some bitterness, Vulpes ignored it.

* * *

"And one last thing," Caesar said. "Tomorrow will be a day of rest, and at sunset will be Trivia's ceremony. After, double rations for Denacii and below. Ideally, we would have a real feast for everyone, but we just don't have the stock. Atticus and Lucius will be coordinating guards posted around the camp and the service, so I expect that all legionaries besides those they select to be in attendance. That is all."

Vulpes left the meeting feeling, if not good, at least not sick with anger. A week spent in relative solitude had helped him. He barely felt anything at all. Even when he pushed back his tent flap and saw Six sitting in his chair.

He nodded to her. She smiled at him.

"So, the ceremony is tomorrow," she said.

"Yes, I believe Caesar might have said something about it," he replied. He turned away and started slowly loosening the ties on his armor. It wasn't that he didn't want to look at her, but he was hot and he was trying not to make her uncomfortable by removing his armor so brazenly.

"I want you to be there." Her voice came from behind him.

"Everyone will be there," he assured her.

"No, I meant-" she crossed over to stand next to him. "I want you to be with me. Not, like, right next to me, obviously, but off to the side, by Caesar."

He gritted his teeth. "Why?"

From the corner of his eye he saw her cock her head to the side and smile. He looked away. "Because you're my husband, of course. It would be weird if you were lost in the crowd."

He closed his eyes slowly and opened them again. "I suppose after telling Caesar he had no ability to govern you, you had to make your own demands to see if he would follow them," he said blankly.

He turned and placed his armor on top of the footlocker. He took advantage of the empty chair and turned to his desk. He wasn't avoiding looking at her, he just needed to check something in his scouting reports.

"I guess. I didn't really think of it that way," she said. "I've been busy this week, but we need to start pretending to be married again This is as good an opportunity as any. And I want you there because... without you, well, I wouldn't be there, either."

"I suppose that's true."

"You suppose, you suppose." She came and leaned next to the desk. "Are you angry with me or something?"

"Of course not."

She scooted up onto his desk, pushing his papers away from him. He restrained a sigh. "Well, you're acting strangely. You haven't even looked at me since you got here."

He looked up at her now. She was sitting on his desk, disturbing his papers, smiling down at him. He longed to push her off. "I assure you, Six, I am not angry."

"Good, because I have something I need you to do," she said, smile gone. "Go to Arcade. He has some books. Ten or twelve or so. Bring them to Yvana first, she will pick out some, then bring the rest back to me."

Vulpes remained very still for a few moments. He stood slowly. "Very well."

Six groaned and hopped to the ground, wincing. "Stop it!" she said. "Stop acting like this! You probably think I didn't notice it last time, but I did. Stop it!"

Vulpes' anger came back hot in full force, but he replied coldly. "As you say."

"What is your problem?" she demanded. "Are you really just pissy that I'm going to have some bullshit religious standing? You know I don't even believe in that stuff."

"I couldn't be more pleased-"

"Now you're just doing it to piss me off," she said. "What the hell, Vulpes?"

He forced himself to look in her eyes. "I don't know if you noticed, _Trivia_, but we've succeeded. Caesar is never going to kick you out, now. Personally, I cannot fathom why he would admit to you being his equal in the eyes of the Gods, but he is assuring you that you have nothing to fear from him. The only thing you could do now, I imagine, is be caught standing over his bed in the middle of the night with a silenced pistol. Even then, you would get a quick death, so he could cover it up. There is nothing more you need from me, so if you wouldn't mind leaving me to my work-"

"You're pissy because I don't need you anymore?" she asked incredulously. "I told Caesar off so we could keep our marriage. That benefits you tremendously. An alliance like that gives you more power than Lanius or Lucius. Who do you think will _really_ be next in line for succession now? But you just avoid me because, what, you feel _impotent_-"

He turned toward her, hand raised. Whether he meant to hit her or just grab her and shake her, he didn't know, but he pulled it back. "I never cared for advancing my personal power. I helped _you_ get power so our goals could be reached. Now that we've achieved that goal there is no reason to go on pretending. If you can't allow Caesar the privilege, perhaps you should end this sham yourself, hmm? I've succeeded in my work. When we strike north again, I will collect my daughter and deliver her to your Spartans, and all I dreamed will be done. I don't need power or accolades. Sever the tie between us and let me have my own life back."

She gaped at him. "I didn't think-"

"No, you never think, do you?" he said, closing the small distance between them. "You decry Caesar for forcing his marital ideas upon you, but you have no qualms doing the same to me. You never thought that once our common goals neared completion I might desire a normal life. Perhaps even a normal wife."

"Oh, so you're just upset because it's been a while since you got your dick wet? You were always free to do that, it's not my fault."

He raised his hand to strike her in her profane mouth, and again resisted the urge. "Yes, that's true. I suppose _you_ were never faithful."

She winced, as though she thought he might not have known about the drunken night with the tribal in Primm, or he hadn't heard the rumors of her sneaking into the profligate's tent at night. "It was never a real marriage!" she hissed.

"And when the chance came to end the farce," he said, "you didn't think for even a moment that I would want that? A chance for something more than a fiction?"

She cast her eyes down. Sign of guilt. "I thought, after Servillia, I mean..."

"Don't lie," he said quietly.

She looked up and anger flashed in her eyes. "You're right. I thought that you wanted me, anyway. So, no, I didn't think you'd be too upset about keeping the title."

His hand was still raised. He lowered it to her cheek, toyed with the hair around her face. She tensed, but didn't speak. "Even if that were true," he whispered, "you have made it very clear that such a thing will never happen. Yet you'd rather keep me bound then let me find it somewhere else. What does that say?"

He didn't want it anywhere else. He wasn't sure if he wanted it with her. He wasn't entirely sure what this argument was even about. But he wanted her to admit that she was wrong. He wanted to grab her hair and pull until she cried and apologized; for anything, for everything. He couldn't, of course. He still wouldn't hurt a woman who didn't want it.

"You never said you wanted that," she said.

"You never asked," he replied.

She sighed. "You're right. I didn't. I'm sorry. And it's too late, at least for now." She looked up at him. "But I will leave you alone, if that's what you want. In six months, a year, I can probably dissolve our marriage without looking too foolish. That's all I ask. And you can have the life you want. Just... remember that the life I wanted was a simple Praetorian. Or I could have run away in the Northern Passage, before I got this deep. You pushed and prodded me the whole way. Not saying I'm not equally responsible, but," she looked away again, "I will never escape what we created. I will never have a normal life. But I guess if at least one of us can, that's a good thing."

She slipped out of his grasp and out of his tent. He sat down on his chair and stared vacantly at the doorway.

Perhaps it wasn't only her status that disconcerted him. Perhaps he was also frightened that she really might have no use for him anymore. And he would be alone again.

How did she make it sound so logical? She treated him like a subordinate, then told him off for acting like one. She left him behind, then acted like _he_ was the one leaving _her_.

And worst of all, somehow made him feel _better_.

His lip curled. He shoved his papers off the desk in anger, but they just fluttered peacefully to the ground. Mars fucking above, she infuriated him.

* * *

Vulpes stood next to Caesar as the priestesses chanted in Latin, washed her feet, and laid a wreath of woven cactus needles and yellow flowers on her head. He wasn't sure that all those things were particularly Roman, but he supposed they would be now.

She walked over to Caesar and gave him the barest of nods. He returned it. She looked at Vulpes and smiled, but it was guarded and unsure.

"Oh, go ahead, kiss him. It's your day," Caesar said.

Vulpes was certain that wasn't a magnanimous gesture. Perhaps that is how Six and Caesar would rule together - never openly disagreeing, but passive-aggressively maneuvering the other at each opportunity. But it didn't matter now. They had their parts to play. Six stepped over to him and pressed her mouth against his, in front of the Gods and everyone. It wasn't a real kiss. It wasn't like the ones he shared with Servillia, or even like the short kiss before Six left on her suicide mission. It was a farce for the crowd, like this whole damn ceremony was. But even though there was nothing romantic about it, he thought it meant something. It broke past all the fights, all the religion, all the political machinations. Maybe it was as simple as the shared knowledge that they were still in this together. He reached his hand around to cup the back of her neck, and he knew Six thought so, too. He could feel her smile on his lips.


	31. The Third Choice

Six already knows how hard it is to gain trust without lying. Now she learns how hard it is to gain obedience without killing. Set slightly before Flawed Beings.

The Legion remained in their location until the trickle of incoming Tarahumara runners stopped. They returned to Santa Ana and posted enough soldiers and slaves to permanent duty there to establish a foothold and start rebuilding. But they didn't leave yet. Six knew, because she was privy to every communication that came and left Caesar's camp, that the reason was unrest in Flagstaff. Primus Augustus was dead, and arguments about succession were abounding. She was sure they would strike out north soon.

The Tara people would be a huge boon to the Legion. Messengers with their speed and stamina would be very helpful given the large landmass that the Legion now controlled. Vulpes had selected a few for his Frumentarii, and there were even some females who arrived. Six took immediate control of all the new women. Precedents had to be set, after all, both to the Legion and to the new women. Six had her first experience in punishing her subordinates. She didn't put anyone up on a cross, or even have their sisters bludgeon them to death. But there were a few that were not cowed by being put on mess detail. She was alternately filled with guilt at forcing them to be a part of the Legion and infuriated by how ungrateful they were for being spared a slave's fate. Sometimes she wished she could beat them into submission herself. It would certainly be symbolic, but the Arcade that lived in the back of her head and her still-weak leg stilled her hand.

But the real Arcade, and also Vulpes, were unhelpful. Vulpes pointed out that usually when the adult males were troublesome, they were killed and only children salvaged from the tribes they conquered. The Tara were different, having the skills they did. But there were enough male Tara that they could afford to beat a few to death for insubordination. That made the rest think twice about spitting at the feet of their leaders. There were only four women, and she wanted to keep them all if she could.

Arcade simply couldn't recommend the physical harm of anyone.

For now, she had the newcomers under watch, and refused to give them the standard machetes. One of them, Onawa, was more troublesome than the rest. She was definitely the ringleader. Six consulted with Yvana, then one night called them all to her. Arcade wouldn't be happy with what she was about to do, but he had failed to think of something better. And so had she.

"You have three choices," she told them, speaking slowly. They all spoke decent English, if heavily accented, and for that Six was grateful. "If you do not want to be a warrior, you can choose to go to the slave barracks. You can wash clothes. You can be beaten and raped by soldiers when you bring them their dinner. If you want that, speak up now."

The women looked at her suspiciously, but said nothing. She hadn't expected them to. That wasn't even a serious offer, she just hoped it might scare them. "If you do not want that, you can remain here with me, and find honor through your skills and loyalty."

"What is third choice?" Onawa asked in a sharp tone.

Six fixed her with a steady stare. "If you want to die for your tribe so badly, I will oblige you."

She looked momentarily confused. She probably didn't know the word 'oblige', but Yvana said quickly, "Si quieres morir por tu tribu tan mal, voy a complacerte."

Onawa smiled, then spat on the ground. "Yo estaría orgulloso de morir por la Tarahumara."

Six looked at Yvana, who nodded sadly. She sighed. "Very well." She unholstered her 12.7, but didn't raise it. She couldn't. But she couldn't let Onawa continue to fight with her Spartans and overtly ignore her authority, either.

Shame filled her. She looked over at Yvana. The woman had been ready to watch her shoot Onawa in the head. She trusted Six that much. She tried to steel herself. It was her responsibility to make this work. Her female force was the vanguard of change in this society. She couldn't sacrifice that for any one individual. Not herself, and not this Onawa tribal.

But she couldn't raise the weapon. She couldn't invoke decimation; ordering her Spartans to kill Onawa would be the same as pulling the trigger herself. She couldn't let her go. Aside from setting a bad precedent, she was a desperate woman. Who knew what trouble she would cause? She obviously couldn't force her to go to the slave barracks. Not if she wanted to have any credence on the issue of ending slavery down the road.

"Qué quieres?" she asked quietly.

Onawa looked confused again. "Voy a quemar todo, si puedo. Una muerte honorable es todo lo que yo deseaba."

Six gritted her teeth. "Fine."

* * *

Six gathered her Spartans the next day around a makeshift arena she and Yvana constructed in the night. Merrin lined up the other three Tara women, and directed Onawa to the center of the arena. She was much more agreeable now that she had a machete and the prospect of possibly killing Legion members.

"Onawa would like an honorable death," she yelled. "Who will give her one?"

Reggie stepped forward. Six was relieved, in a way. Reggie was an excellent fighter. With luck, only one woman would die today.

With no more words, they began the dance. By the end Reggie was injured, but not seriously, and Onawa was dead.

Six let the image of her wide, blank eyes burn into her memory, then turned to the Tara woman closest to her.

"Your turn," she said harshly.

"No, no-" the woman protested.

"You don't want an honorable death?"

"Ah, no, Trivia-"

"You would rather have an honorable life? Because this-" she flung her hand toward Onawa's corpse "-this is the alternative!"

The woman put her hands up and stuttered. Six knew in the back of her mind that the woman probably didn't know English well enough to understand everything she just said, but she didn't care.

"What about you?" she asked the second woman. "And you?" she said to the third. "Would you like an honorable death?"

Their eyes were downcast. All three women fell silent.

"Good," Six said. "Merrin!"

Merrin ran up to her.

"Keep them under watch," she said. "But give them machetes. Put them in the drills. If they cause any problems, subdue them."

Six stalked away and left the logistics to Merrin and Yvana. She needed to be further away from the smell of blood.

* * *

She didn't go to Arcade. Even if he admitted he had no better solution, he would be horrified by her choice and what she had forced others to do. She didn't go to Vulpes. She couldn't handle him congratulating her on a job well done, which is surely what he would call it. She didn't go to Caesar. He wouldn't even understand what was important about the event. She sat heavily at her desk and absently massaged her aching thigh. Onawa had never been a Spartan, not really. Hadn't wanted to be. That didn't matter. Made it worse, in a way. Six added the name to her mental list of lives she had taken. For the first time in a long time, she wished she had a good, stiff drink.


	32. Six Seven Eight

He walked down the river with a smile on his face. It was nice to be home. The cliffs and canyons of Zion seemed to escape the awful destruction of the civilized lands to the south. He couldn't remember why he ever wanted to leave. Joshua had left; but he, too, returned to the holy land. His thoughts shied away from Joshua, and focused instead on the happy faces of his tribe when they would see him return.

The walk took less time than he remembered. A few seconds passed and he was turning the bend that would bring him to the Dead Horse's camp. But something wasn't right. It was silent. When the camp came into view, Chalk fell to his knees in the river.

Burned. Everything was burned. The bodies of his fellow tribesmen were scorched and unrecognizable. The area was filling with smoke. He coughed, it burned his throat. He couldn't see more than the shapeless outlines of corpses, the shadows of White Legs, but they were bright with war paint. He looked up to the sky in despair and saw crosses. Hundreds of crosses with Dead Horses and Sorrows and Daniel and Joshua dead, all dead, ravens perched on their shoulders, picking at their eyes-

Chalk woke with a start. The smell of burned flesh still stung his nose. He rushed to the bathroom and was sick into the sink. Just a product of the dream. In the real world, there was no smoke left by the time he arrived back in Zion. He wiped his mouth with a shaky hand. Sleep would not find him again tonight.

He exited the hotel room. He had no destination in mind. He walked slowly through the silent town, feet moving independently for the most part. But the town was small, and soon he was back to the stairs that led to his room. He turned around to look at the giant lizard building. He had a strange desire to look out over the wasteland from the top of that building, as though if he got up high enough he would see something, find somewhere to go. But this wasn't Zion. There wasn't anything to find in this civilized wasteland.

He went up anyway. He didn't have anything else to do. He passed through the shop and up the stairs. He opened the door at the top.

"Goddamn it! Don't sneak up on me like that."

"Sorry," Chalk said. "I didn't know anyone was up here."

"What do you want?"

The man was wearing sunglasses, indoors, at night, but that's not what struck Chalk about his appearance. He was wearing an NCR beret. He had seen them on dead bodies near the McCarran building.

"Are you NCR?" he asked.

"What's it to you?"

"I heard Jeanie May talking. She wants you to stop wearing that hat. She thinks it will get the town in trouble from the Legion."

"Yeah, I know. But this town is in trouble from the Legion either way. Might as well wear it."

Chalk considered this. "I just came up to see the view," he said.

The soldier raised an eyebrow at him. "Isn't much out there."

"No. Isn't much in here, either."

The man surprised him by laughing. "True," he said. "I've been thinking the same thing lately. I wanted to stick around this town until... well, doesn't matter anymore. Doesn't seem much reason for anything these days, except killing Legionaries. They've been busy with New Vegas, but soon there'll be more Legion in Novac than I have bullets."

They looked out over the wasteland. There was nothing, Chalk thought. Nothing left in the world. She had taken everything from him and burned it all.

He smiled. _She_ was still there.

Chalk gestured to the rifle. "You good with that?" he asked.

He scoffed. "You see this beret? It's from the First Recon division. Best of the best. Called us 'the last thing you never see.' Pretty accurate. And so am I."

"Sounds like you miss it."

He looked guarded. "Sometimes."

"It _doesn't_ sound like the town _wants_ protection from the Legion."

He made a noise of disgust. "They're scared. They don't want to fight it. Jeanie May told me... what are you getting at, kid?"

Chalk shrugged. "Sounds like we both need a new purpose."

He didn't respond for some time. The horizon was already getting light in advance of the dawn before he said, "Yeah. Yeah, we do. Can't stay here anymore. They don't even want me. They'd rather lie down like dogs in front of the Legion."

"We could travel together," Chalk suggested.

"Hnh. Yeah. Working on your own, you're a lot less effective. I've been there and paid for it. But this isn't gonna end well." He eyed Chalk through his sunglasses. "I'm shooting any Legionary I see. Hope that's not a problem."

"No, that's not a problem. That's a solution."

He laughed. "Damn right. You and I, we're just a couple of problem solvers. I'm Boone," he said, and held out his hand.

Chalk shook it, and thought for a moment. "My name is Seven."

"Weird name," said Boone. "Numbers. Like that Courier. The Legion bitch."

Chalk smiled again. "Something like that."


End file.
